SoulBound
by Ellourrah
Summary: A dark obsession tears the ancient worlds apart, sacrificing thousands of lives in the name of love. Now, Chiba Mamoru is infatuated with the blond Senshi. He must discover the identity of the city's heroine, and he's willing to do whatever it takes.
1. Prologue

Prologue

A somber grey sky arched in pain toward the heavens across the slouching stone barriers, the scream of the eastern wind it's only cry of despair. The palace walls were thick and hard, permeated with the damp coolness of a long forsaken dungeon. Along the faded stone face, years of history etched into each jagged scar. The grounds seemed more like a decaying tomb or a shroud of never ending agony, than the beautiful tapestry of magic it had once been. The skies shed no light, showered no mercy across the faded, rotting landscape sprawling toward the distance. The shivering, cool wind brought the stench of death, of hell, of a thousand broken, lost souls. It was a wind of ill fortune, of curses and pestilence –of death.

For the Heavenly Kings, tonight was a grim night indeed. It was at the denouncement of their Master that each had begun the sinister fall toward the darkness. Even now, the languid rolling of their earthly powers were devolving toward the most vile, demonic hands of the underworld. The King of Hell himself had mocked the growing despair, the Immortal Gods declared their spiteful condemnation. It would all end soon, in the haze of fire and smoke, beneath the crushing hand of a Demoness that once stood at their side.

Tonight, all things would shatter and fall into ruin. At dawn, the Fates themselves would watch in cryptic silence as the world they'd worked so hard to create fell to dust beneath their broken, damned seals. They would watch an entire pantheon of Gods weep in agony; their immortal tears shed for a time since lost to the pages of history. Yes, the Fates would watch as the world they knew fell to rubble and vanished, and with it, the souls they had spent so much time manipulating.

What would they be without their little pawns, their cackling, wretched fingers forever twisting the threads that wove the ancient tapestry? What would they be without their haughty, knowing smiles and impossible creeds and regulations meant to distort the human family to their own sinister ends? Such was a place soon to be discovered. Such was a place soon to be a terrifying reality.

Within the quiet, lonely chambers, he paced. The aura gracing his fast moving feet was of agitation, worry. He had made his choice long ago, and did not deny it, nor shrink from it. It had been his to make, and therefore should never have involved so many. The onyx-like feathering hair glimmered faintly by firelight, his mouth set in a firm line. Death waited for all of them now, it was too late to turn back. Perhaps the most frightening realization for the young man was that, given the same situation again, he wouldn't have changed a single decision. The Fates could rot in their self-constructed hell for all he cared, and the Gods could be their whipped bedmates.

The whole damn mess was their doing; yet another twisted little game they'd played with the mortals. Well, they had lost this round, he knew. They had been forced to release the Demon Queen in hopes of repairing their awful mistake. Even should the battle prove to be their death, the Fates had been forced to sacrifice all to achieve it. It was a very small victory, but one he would take with pride. It was one he knew his sweet lover would approve of heartily.

His pace slowed a fraction at the thought of her. At their first meeting, she had come to him by moonlight. He had lain in the dewey springtime gardens of the palace beneath the warmth of the softly glowing orb, and she had come. Her form had been swathed in the mantle of the Immortals themselves, perfect in every curve and measure. Her eyes had been soft, beckoning, and his heart had answered the silent call, had felt the awesome power cleverly disguised as a beautiful Demi-God.

But the meeting was ill fated. For the breathtaking Goddess had already been promised to another by the ever meddlesome Fates. Their decree left no room for discussion, for the two never should have met. He thanked all the great stars above and every ancestor he'd ever heard of for her rebellious spirit, her strong will. For without those two, such a love never could have existed, nor thrived in such adversity.

The Fates had announced their fury. He had not cared. Even had she not been a Descendant of the Highest, he would have fallen the moment that gaze touched his face. Their disapproval mattered not. He had already given in, had broken Taboo, had defied the Gods themselves for her hand, for her soft kiss….

Midnight eyes steeled in determination as his pace quickened once more. He would make the same choice again, if only to have her. He walked the room; body tensed at the thought of the final battle, of leaving his father's side to stand beside her, to protect her from a nightmare he had unknowingly created. The grim line of his mouth deepened as he thought of it. Perhaps there was one decision he would change freely; the meeting of the midnight witch in the fields to the north. Even the thought of her brought an angry curse to his lips. He had been so young…so naïve….

"Endymion."

He spun on his heel, outrage clear on his anger sharpened features, to see who had dared approach him on such a night. Already he had been banished from the war council and the company of his men at arms for treason by his father. No other should dare to speak to him in his wrath. But his visitor bore no resemblance to any mortal man, tall form easily reaching the stone ceiling above his head, eyes as dark as the blackest pits of the underworld. He wore no symbols, no signs, yet the enraged prince could tell he was one of the Gods.

He did not smile in greeting, his face was somber and long, and his hair a shadow not unlike the forest at night. The robes were a stoic grey, yet his presence filled the room with closely guarded power. Endymion felt as though his breath would freeze in the air between them as his visitor began to speak, filling the room with his words.

"I've come to offer you a second chance, young prince. The Fates have decreed your death, as well as that of my Lady." His voice was hollow, as if caught behind him in a large chamber and lost to the eternities. It was this effect that gave way to the Being's identity, and stilled Endymion's thoughts. The prince peered curiously at the God before him, wondering why He, of all of them, would be the one to deliver his death sentence for rebellion.

The news of his own fate pronounced so clearly in the small chamber made no difference. He had known at the first meeting that to love her and to be by her side would mean treason against the Gods. She was, after all, allotted to her own place and should never have been allowed to enter the guardian borders of Earth. He'd known that. He'd known only death awaited behind those silver eyes, her soft hands –yet he had gripped them anyway, and had held on tight ever since.

"I offer an exchange for your fate, if you will no longer be slaves to Them, become my willing servants." He began again, setting the time key down against the stone as the Door of Eternity swirled into existence behind him. But his offer held no pull, for Endymion would rather die than be separated from the very cause of all his problems.

"No, my Lord Chronos." He did not hesitate, did not bother to lower his eyes in some mock show of piety for One so powerful. As far as he was concerned, all the Gods had turned on him, and he would not allow them to think for one moment that Their intimidation would change anything. "What could an eternity of servitude to you offer me…if she is not there...?"

The question hung between them both, the only softness Endymion allowed past the careful barrier he had erected around himself. Chronos himself did not allow the smile to reach his face, but the temperature of the room altered, warmed at the defiance in the young man's heart. He had indeed chosen his work very carefully.

"Her." The word rang louder in the room than the earlier death sentence. Endymion paused his rapid thoughts, stilled the frustrated beating of his heart as his eyes settled firmly against those of the God of Time. "Do you accept?"

It was not often that the Gods chose to mislead mortals. All the same, it had been known to happen in the past to accomplish their twisted ends. Chronos himself had never been any part of the usual quarrels the other deities were so painfully remembered for in Terran books. If anything, the reigning forces had caused more problems than solved in the past 1000 years. Though They shielded them from outside forces that could easily erase human life on the planet, They did not simply leave the people of Earth in peace. How many times had Zeus himself caused a small war when laying with assorted maidens from one end of the land to the other, and his jealous wife Hera to destroy entire kingdoms in retaliation. They were more burdensome than helpful in the Prince's mind, and he had few kind words to say to them.

But the offer was enticing. Chronos was always depicted as distant, removed from worldly affairs, locked away in his proverbial tower to safeguard the timeline and guide the prominent events to fruition. He would not be a likely candidate for trickery, and he very easily could use a servant of some kind to aid in guiding such circumstances. Shrewdly, midnight blue eyes slanted in thought as he opened his mouth to respond in the other's waiting silence.

"If I have your word she will be exclusively mine forever."

Chronos felt a tiny, nearly invisible smile peak at the corners of his mouth. The intensity and power hidden within the young man's eyes was more than evident, nearly titanic in immensity, and would soon be lost to the unknowing Fates should he fail in this mission. It was with this end, and others yet unknown to the world, that he weighed the next few words with an eternal promise.

"Accept, and the two of you shall be Bound." Endymion found himself feeling very strangely beneath the steady promise in Chronos' eyes, as if he were being sized up for something larger. Some part of him knew that it could be a trick, it could be a trap of some kind to avert the coming war… but none of that really mattered to him beside the promise of her forever… "If this is your heart's desire, listen carefully to my words, young one. The love you have shared with My Lady has torn the timeline free from it's set course, and has sent it spinning towards the darkness. This world will not survive the coming battle. Having seen that this might come to pass, I have arranged for a second chance, both for this world and the next. If you wish to agree, it is with full knowledge that your soul shall never find it's way to the immortal fields of Elysium. The both of you shall be forever Bound to one another and to my whims as the God of Time. But know this, Prince of Terra, that should you ever break her heart, the Binding spell shall break likewise, but your contract with me shall remain eternal."

Endymion was not a brash man. He did not make decisions based on fanciful thoughts or feelings. Now, faced with the greatest contract he would ever face, he knew already the decision he would make without thinking, without feeling. After all, who else could ensure his Serenity's eternal safety in his arms, or the allure of a thousand lifetimes at her side? No hill in Elysium could possibly compare, no battle would ever be too threatening so long as she stood beside him. The ominous warning Chronos had offered mere moments before held no validity in Endymion's mind, for he knew it was impossible for any portion of his soul to ever reject the sweet presence of the Immortal, even should she be reborn as a human.

It was with this resolve that hands were outstretched and clasped, and the greatest contract ever created in history was made. That day, the sealing Keys were given, the ancient spell begun, and the world thrown into a blackness only to be dispersed by the creation of a new existence. In the end, it meant the sacrifice of countless worlds and souls, the loss of an entire pantheon of Gods that once ruled supreme in the heavens, yet it was a small thing indeed, for all hope for a future rested on the blinding, eternal love of the two Titans, and their never ending journey through the corridors of time. Thus begins our story.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

Usagi grinned at her friends anxiously, and feeling her heart beat strangely in her chest. She had woken up with the strangest sense that something important was going to happen, and that she was going to be right in the middle of it. Her senses had failed her before, of course, and nothing had been out of place today to give any clue toward the meaning behind the strange sense of foreboding. After all, the day she'd met Luna had felt just like any old day. It was because of this thought that she forced a happy smile to her face, and tried hard to brush away the uncomfortable feeling. Ami and Rei had both wanted to take a short break after their strenuous school day and the three of them had headed instinctively to the arcade. The young blond entered the sliding glass doors, flanked by her closest friends.

The inside was bustling with summer life, each seat filled to near capacity as the late July air blew in front the doorway behind them. Strands of black and blond hair mingled in the oncoming breeze before the doors slid resolutely shut behind them. The uncomfortable breath lodged in her throat, fueled by anxiety as she wished silently for an answer she felt unable to receive. It was too much to ask, as each of them continued to jibber in their high-pitched, school girl voices. The arcade could only offer so many answers to a question she didn't know.

Her eyes scanned the packed rows, sure to see a familiar someone sipping coffee at the front bar and talking casually with his best friend. Under normal circumstances, she never sought the poor man out to have a verbal spat, but today was different. She needed to get rid of that weird feeling growing within her, and a fight would work just as well as any distraction. She was rewarded with the familiar sight of his heavy black locks reflecting the afternoon sunlight, and beside him another head of blond. How very predictable the man was, and how freakishly boring sometimes. It was true, the object of her eternal torment was a very good looking man with brains and cash and a killer smile, but that didn't mean you couldn't set your watch to him.

Directly behind him, lodged into the first booth like shower mildew, sat a group of pristinely dressed students from Azubu University. Their haircuts were all according to the latest styles, clothes pressed and fit to perfection, and identified by a club patch emblazoned on their left shoulders. Even the sight of their snobby, upturned little faces caused Usagi to shudder with displeasure. It was the ever present fan club that seemed welded to his side every time he stepped out in public. One could almost hear the drool hitting the table as each pair of greedy, glittering eyes watched his every movement. Conspiratorial whispers ruffled against the regular afternoon din; daintily manicured hands lifted to mask their secrets. The young school girl tried to hide her obvious disgust at the 'elite' group of ravenous fans as she strolled familiarly toward the front counter.

"Motoki-onii-chan!" She called good naturedly, waving to one of her best friends in the whole world. The blond college student glanced up, grinning ear to ear and whipping out his notebook. "Three double cheeseburgers, one bacon Swiss, hold the ketchup, two bar-b-que beef burgers, large fries each with two cokes, a 7up, lemonade, and a tropical freeze slushy."

"I got 3 regulars, 1 Jimmy, no juice, 2 cowboys, shoelaces, 2 liquid crack, a fizzy water, a sourpuss and a frozen Jamaican." She gave the thumbs up sign and he blew at the tip of his pencil expertly in reply. "How was your day?" He asked conversationally as the burgers where flopped onto the grill. She shrugged non-committaly and settled herself on the counter to wait.

It was a routine day; the girls would somehow find a place to sit among the crowds while Usagi had an order shoot-out with the arcade manager and then waited for it to be filled. The complete normalcy of their earlier actions did little to relieve the sense of foreboding curled into her chest, but she brushed it aside resolutely. Now was not a time for doom and all those other useless things. The crowds around them seemed to quiet down the tiniest bit at the appearance of the blond, as if waiting for the fireworks to start as she settled herself into a stool a few down from his. She didn't meet his eyes; there was no need to put forth any effort to gain his attentions. He had, since they met, been unfortunately drawn to her for all the wrong reasons. His dark blue eyes rose from the painfully obscure drink like clockwork, and signaled yet another epic battle had begun.

"Only ordering for yourself today? The others might get hungry." He taunted darkly, leaning back in the stool. Usagi pointedly ignored the ensuing laughter as the crowd immersed itself in the beginnings of another fight. The small group of girls crooning over his every word giggled wickedly at the clever remark. Usagi did her best to ignore the snide comments whispered from the side lines, and focused sharp, predatorily eyes on her arch-rival.

"Oh, don't be jealous Mamoru, some day your poor, undeveloped stomach might be able to handle solid food." Mamoru blinked in surprise at her witty comeback, mind whirring into action as they slid into a typical daily fight.

"If it means turning myself into a human vacuum, I'm really not interested. Who knows what all the junk food does to your brain –no wonder you're so stunted." His grin was wicked and cruel as the group broke into uproarious laughter at her expense. She just shrugged, unaffected by the low blow to her grades. It was one he pulled every day, and to be perfectly honest, Usagi could only hear it so many times before becoming bored with the same old insult.

"That comment made no sense coming from someone who only drinks coffee -no wonder you're such a bitter, uninteresting person." The shot did little to amuse the girls in booth 1, nor did it even fizzle against the giant titan known as Mamoru's Pride. He shook his head methodically, standing from the seat to swagger over closer to her; long, lean body sprawling against the counter beside her. It was causing the breath to lodge painfully in her throat to have him so close. The fact that she could lean forward and actually touch that perfectly sculptured chest hardly helped the fact, and she found herself swallowing whatever insult might have come to mind.

"Oh yes, I'm so boring, aren't I? That must be the reason why I have one of the highest GPA's in the university, unlike you, or the fact that I have my own fan club, unlike you. But you must be right, Odango. You're just a ridiculous, ditzy little peon and therefore must have a personality, right?" The words whipped a cold winter's wind directly into her chest as the crowd laughed cruelly from behind. Instead of the usually vicious jab to the grades, he'd gone directly for the jugular and attacked her at the weakest point. Her eyes flashed furiously, but her heart sunk in despair.

"I _am_ interesting, I'm at least human!" She screeched in his face, angry and hurt at the way he tore her down from the inside out. The triumphantly arctic grin that coated his face then froze her blood and caused her fingers to clench tightly at the seat cushion below her.

"About as human as some infantile doll, maybe. You're about as original as a manufactured American heiress without the good looks. And lets face it, Odango, when the face is all you have, and you don't even have that, you're suddenly just like every other vapid little middle-schooler who can't function on days she doesn't get her Sailor V time." His eyes flashed like the frosty, dead snow of December in the moonlight as he straightened himself and turned to reclaim the seat he'd left behind. "Yup, I'm intrigued."

"Mamoru!" Motoki growled warningly from the grill, angry words lost in the lime green apron tied to his front. Given the strange picture the tall, blond man made, Mamoru's answering look was less than intimidated.

Usagi barely registered her friend's stern voice in the humiliating aftermath of his cruelty. She'd always prided herself on her fun-loving, outgoing personality. It wasn't something often seen among the calm, collected people of Japan, and everyone seemed to like her for it. But to hear that she was just like some heiress (whatever that meant, it had to be derogatory) crushed what small bit of self confidence she had. Her head hung low in defeat, unable to refute his words. She remained silent, afraid if she spoke her voice would crack and betray her secret.

Had the dashing young man even bothered to look in her direction, he might have been rewarded with a few simple tears streaking down her pale, shaking face. He didn't care. Usagi felt herself shiver helplessly at the thought. The only thing he bothered to deal with was his schoolwork, his job, and making her feel lower than dirt. Well, once again he'd accomplished his goal for the day. As if by design, Usagi found herself awkwardly picking at the lint on her school uniform, pretending not to exist.

"Usa-chan, you ok?" Motoki prodded near silently as the tray with their food was set before her. She simply nodded, and stood wordlessly to return to the others. It would have been stupid to even offer a resistance at this pointless, she just wanted to get to the booth and eat her food without any more problems. Knowing the girls were watching from the back, she moved swiftly down the aisles and refused to even raise both blue eyes to meet his as she left.

Motoki felt the anger rising in his chest as he watched her go, faintly noting the snobby college girls in the first booth comment on her hair and clothes. He had been watching her walk away every day for a year and a half now, and it seemed she gave in a little more quickly each day to the taunts, the viscous jabs, the cold eyes of his best friend. Everyday her shoulders hung a little lower, her eyes lost a little sparkle, and her usual spitfire personality faded. It was something he had been trying to help her work through, but it seemed nothing was working.

"Motoki, can I get another?" Mamoru queried from the other side of the counter and the usually personable man shot him a glare that promised slow, painful mutilation should his best friend unwisely choose to ignore his demands. One shadow black eyebrow lifted curiously at the look, though he didn't appear otherwise effected by it.

"No. Not until you go apologize." The arcade manager turned his back resolutely on the shocked heart throb, too angry to say anything else. He'd been standing on the sidelines long enough. It was time Mamoru got taken down a peg or two –even if his best friend was the one to do it.

"For what? That little brat has done nothing but earned what she got. If she didn't like it, she shouldn't have fought back." Mamoru bit out coldly, not liking the way Motoki was siding with that whiny little blond kid from the Jr. High.

"She hardly fights back at all anymore because of you! Now go say you're sorry." Mokoti's stern brown eyes found Mamoru's icy blue. Had Mamoru not known his friend at all, he would have assumed that the green apron was merely a disguise for who was in reality a cage fighter. He'd never seen the usually fun-loving young man actually angry before, let alone the emotion burning a permanent crease in the usually smooth forehead. Sure, they had fought every once in a while, but in all seriousness? Motoki? "I'm not kidding, and I'm not giving it up, Mamoru-kun. Go apologize, right now."

The sudden sound of the chair legs clawing at the floor caused the hair on the back of Usagi's neck to stand up straight. She had just settled herself in beside the other four and was consciously minding her own business as Rei gushed on and on incessantly about boys –Mamoru in particular. Her heart couldn't honestly handle the conversation, given what she'd come here for today, and what had just happened at the front of the room. It was that tooth-shattering noise that caused her big blue eyes to scan the room furtively in search of who had caused it. To her horror, Chiba Mamoru was already stalking his way toward the back with all the dark grace of a movie star villain. The aura about him was irritated, but lazy, eyes focused on her, but perpetually bored. The other groups in the room quieted down enough to hear what would pass between the two of them. She quickly averted her eyes, wishing the ground would open and swallow her whole instead of have to face him after such a stinging retort as the last one.

"Odango," he began; his voice a low, gruff sound that grated against her eardrums. She didn't bother to look up at him. She didn't even bother to breathe. Her pale face was still shaking slightly, though he didn't seem to notice her obvious discomfort. Such a thing would never matter to a man like him. Rumor had it he spent every weekend with a different girl just so he wouldn't have to get emotionally involved. Such a man didn't have messy things like feelings. That was what made his following words so utterly painful. "I'm sorry, k?"

She closed her eyes as the same December storm blew frigid ice into her heart, and caused her to shiver in pain. She hated Motoki right then, that he would think some fake apology would fix everything. There was no doubt in her mind that was exactly what had happened at the front counter. Her 'big brother' was probably holding something ransom to make him do it; like that stupid black coffee or some such nonsense. Her mouth tightened into a hard line as he stood there for a moment longer. Maybe he was waiting for her to accept his ridiculous words as the truth. If so, he wasn't as smart as everyone pegged him to be. His sharp black shoes turned a moment later and he began walking toward the front; fueling her pent up anger and giving her the guts to stand up again. Usagi no longer hesitated at the rage rushing up from the pit of her stomach. It was too much, and the lie he'd just thrown at her carelessly had tossed her over the edge.

"Mamoru-baka!" She screeched angrily, throwing herself to her feet as the young man turned to glare contemptuously at her. She didn't even think anymore as her hands grabbed the first thing they could and threw with a deadly accuracy only she could muster when he was close. The bar-b-q burger splattered all over his clothes, coating them in thick brown goo as the first feeling expression of rage broke across his face. "If you think some pathetic attempt to say sorry to me is going to get you that stupid cup of coffee from 'Toki-onii-chan, you're out of your friggin' mind!"

Mamoru could only stare as the 5 foot nothing pipsqueak shrieked bloody murder before allowing the rage to sink back into the calm sea of emotions he kept under lock and key. Almost disinterestedly, he eyed the goopy damage with disgust and no small amount of irritation. The sauce from her burger was now dripping down his black shirt onto his shoes and the floor, looking all the while like some demented form of blood from a black and white movie. His dark, steely blue eyes rose from the mess at his feet to clash against her gaze heatedly.

"What? Your pathetic excuse for a brain couldn't come up with something better than to throw food like a barbarian? I hope you know you're paying to clean these now."

"Go screw yourself!" She shot back, hardly taking the time to react to his previous statement. The girls gasped in shock at her words as his eyebrow rose in amusement.

"I understand you've had no experience in the matter, but just FYI, that's impossible to do given human anatomy." Heat seared her cheeks at the sudden mental image and she sputtered helplessly, forcing the thought from her mind. Why, WHY did he have to DO that?! "And I hope you also know that you just cost me a damn good cup of coffee just to sound like an idiot again. If you wanted to do that, you should have just opened your mouth like any other time."

Her jaw dropped as yet again, the unfeeling man before her blatantly and mercilessly shredded her. It hadn't been so bad in the beginning. Their spats had been nothing but childish. But she had used them as a stress reliever from the Youma, the grades, other Senshi, and anything else she could think of. After some time they had become more venomous and more hurtful. Especially now, she thought mournfully, most especially now.

The rage built in her chest at the thought of him feeling so secure, so controlled in his little mathematically engineered world of perfection that he felt the inane need to squash what tiny bit of self esteem she had, to crush forever how she saw herself. As it was, she hadn't even been able to look in a mirror for weeks, had stared listlessly onward as Rei drug her in and out of mall shops to find yet another model outfit. Usagi never bothered to try them on anymore, everything made her look young and foolish and nothing ever looked good on her scrawny, short form.

"You are SUCH a cocky, egotistical, rude JACK OFF!" She screamed, scrambling over everyone in the booth to chase him down half way through the arcade. He just watched her coming with those expressionless, winter eyes of his; uncaring, unmoving –a solid barrier in her world that would seemingly never move and never resolve itself. "I don't know WHY I bother even talking to you, because I already know what you're going to say. You're about as predictable as a city bus! The only thing that ever changes is how much of a cold bastard you are!"

He scoffed quietly at the accusation, hardly bothering to shift his feet in response to the short spitfire before him. Her blond head barely hit mid chest, yet she was standing as if she could look him straight in the eye. Well, he mused quietly, the little girl was finally getting a little more backbone. This could make round two a bit more interesting. He didn't bother to weigh the options of a second fight, but slid into form like a snake simply shedding it's skin.

"I would much rather be a predictable, ordered human being than some chaotic, crack induced idiot flitting around the place like it's always high on something." His snide remark was met with a low growl as she reached forward to prod him in the chest heavily.

"And at least I'M not so self-righteous as to assume that anyone younger than me is somehow lesser than me!" He regarded the short schoolgirl gloweringly, noting that she was pathetically young and almost painfully childish. Maybe if she was lucky, she'd get smart about her lack of intelligence, but until then he'd simply have to educate the poor, stupid child. That irritatingly smug smile crept over his face, causing her blood to boil.

"And at least I'm not wasting oxygen that smart people could be using," he stated heatedly, eyes flashing in the afternoon sunlight. Frustration gave way to heartache and she grunted angrily, pounding a fist against his chest though it didn't even make the large man blink.

"Why did I EVER let myself fall in love with you…." What had begun as an aggravated screech, died suddenly on her lips as she realized what she'd just hollered blatantly to his face. One jet black, pristine eyebrow cocked amusedly and a grim smile of the executioner stretched languidly across his perfect lips. Usagi unconsciously stepped backward, blanching violently till her whole frame seemed to grey.

"Fallen in love with me, hu?" he chuckled to himself quietly. The bustling arcade had gone deathly silent beneath the confession and now waited on baited breath to see what would happen between the two of them. Some of the regulars had assumed that this day would eventually come. They were decidedly split on what exactly would happen once it did, but none had any doubt in their mind that at least one of the combat-ees would fall for the other.

Usagi was horrified that her traitorous mouth had given away the secret she'd kept safely hidden between the pages of her diary, the folds of her heart, hoping that over time it would quietly erase itself. She was frighteningly aware that at any point during the next comment, she would simply lose consciousness and flop haphazardly to the floor in a final display of pathetic immaturity. She tried to hold herself steady, but the terrified shaking of her limbs gave evidence to her fear of the older, much more sophisticated man before her. Her heart felt like lead in her chest, pulling into herself so the next comment wouldn't completely destroy her. It was a fruitless act, one that she was sure would make her laugh bitterly someday at her own stupidity.

"What a sad, sad little confession." His eyes searched her coldly, demeanor even farther distant if that were possible. "You're just like them, aren't you? Just some simpering little girl with 'hopes and dreams' that one day the great Chiba Mamoru would look at you and suddenly see something worth loving." His bitter laugh ripped whatever had been nestled in her chest and crushed it beneath steel boots coated by the spikes of ice in his voice. "Newsflash, blondie, you're 6 years younger than me, have a mind that any 3 year old would kill for, and you're too scrawny to be tempting even in the slightest. I couldn't ever love you, and chances are no one else could either."

He didn't even bother to watch long enough for her to race from the arcade in a flurry of tears and sobs.


	3. Chapter Two

So as sad as this is, I find the need to actually put author's notes up. I really hate doing this, but oh well. It's time for announcements.

First off, I'd like to thank everyone who's reviewed so far! You guys rock my face off! Second, I know you're all reeling at how much of an ass Mamoru is in this fic, enough to tell me Usagi should be with someone else. Well, I can't lie at all on this one, I'm pretty hardcore Mamoru/Usagi, so that's just not going to happen. However, I can say that you will be cheering by the end of this chapter, so please continue to read despite how much you want to knock him silly. I promise you won't be disappointed, both with the chapter, and the story. Thanks once again for reading and reviewing, and I hope you all continue to enjoy it.

Ellourrah

Chapter Two

Days after the terrible incident in the arcade, Motoki still hadn't forgiven his best friend. According to all reports, Usagi had been completely devastated by his comments, and even refused to leave the house for a few days. (The arcade manager had reminded him of this many times in their short, angered text messages.) It was all the same to Mamoru, however. The world was a safer place with the infamous Odango locked away in a room; somewhere she couldn't accidentally trip and kill anyone or permanently damage the eardrum of an innocent passerby. Unfortunately, however, the disturbing little bonus he'd gained from the fight had been his banishment from the Crown for two weeks.

It was why his eyes met with a cool golden oak tabletop, instead of red Formica, and that his coffee cup no longer looked old and well loved around the chipped and worn handle. Instead it was unfeeling foam with some semblance of a demented mascot painted across it's happy face. His eyes darkened in fury at the sight of the little thing. A bunny, as if to mock him with the exact reason _why_ he'd been kicked out of his favorite coffee place. This stupid chain couldn't even handle a regular black; they'd gone and put something in it as a sweetener. Ice mocha…frappe…cappuccino…God he hated this place. You say regular, they say 'oh, but wouldn't you like a shot of energy booster-ma-thingies? Would you like any artificial flavoring or sweetener to make your grey matter look like a small crater?' Midnight blue eyes narrowed ominously, fingers tightened around the creepy, deranged bunny face on his cup. No, this place was not acceptable either.

Besides, it was so quiet here he could actually hear the pathetic drivel called his fan club cooing in the background. It was unnerving and completely irritating; so much so that he didn't bother pretending they weren't there. Even with the lure of advanced business management to help him forget, their shrill little voices and pathetic 'Mamoru-sama's' gurgled behind his ear enough to make any sane man sick to his stomach. It was days like this one that made him truly hate whoever had put together his particular gene pool. It wasn't enough to slap some brains on him and say, 'There you are, my boy! Now, go invent cold fusion!' Instead, he had to look like some freakish porn star –and that attracted more foolish attention than it was worth.

God, women were so stupid. What he wouldn't do to trade all of them for test tubes and mathematical equations. At least then, they'd be useful for something, and they'd_ shut the hell up_! He shot an irritated glance at the group as one of them whispered his name too loud and nearly fainted dead away. This set off a whole new round of girlish quibbles about whom he had cast his eye on. He looked away in irritation.

Every time he took a single step free of the apartment, it was like they homed in on him and buzzed just barely out of eyeshot like a swarm of flies until he settled himself in comfortably. Then it was a free-for-all to any booth near him –occupied or not. Every once in a while, one of the herd would get brave and approach him, but for the most part they realized he liked his personal space. Both eyes rolled heavenward in disgust at the thought. He'd begun turning it into a nice little game for them, that way he could be amused, and they could feel as useless as they actually were.

Icy sweet fingers of fear clasped his chest tightly, sending a shot of adrenaline directly into his blood stream and caused his soul to shiver with excitement. A light sheen of sweat began to bead across his smooth forehead at the quick flash that brushed against his psyche. The feelings were not his own, but a welcome intrusion to a boring day. A wicked grin crossed his face, hidden from the crowd by a carefully concealing hand.

Well, not all women were useless; he amended to himself before digging his wallet free.

Ditching the fan club was routine by now as he stood and made his way tactfully to the only place they wouldn't go. He'd made the mistake on a few occasions of quietly attempting to slip out the bathroom window, but having seen exactly how far their fanaticism went, he silently hoped there was an air duct or something to climb through. One hated to be overdramatic like that, but for the ravenous hordes to know his secret identity would mean signing himself up for a lifetime and a half of this nonsense, and he would not allow it. It was the horror of this prospect alone that kept him from doing something asinine like trying to find an alley or something. The girls would follow him in a heartbeat, and that made for awkwardly long periods of searching for just the right spot. It was to this trait that he owed many of the deadly last-minute rescues he'd been performing for quite some time now.

The awkward placement of such a hiding spot made it near impossible for any ravenous fan to follow so long as they were properly attired in the school uniform, or anything remotely close to it. He found himself fervently praising the heavens for whoever had invented skirts for them. The terrifying idea that they might break a nail or flash their pathetic bodies to the world kept them from moving too quickly or trying anything stupid, should he ever be forced to make such an escape while they watched. Yes, skirts for women were like leashes for dogs. It kept them in their place, predictably clean, and out of his way.

A service door across from the men's bathroom had, amazingly, been left ajar. Praising his luck that none of the fan-girls had bothered to follow him down the hallway; he slipped through the exit and into the open air. Within moments, he was on the roof, black and red cape whipping in the late afternoon wind. The sly smile playing at the corner of his mouth betrayed his innermost thoughts as the adrenaline began coursing through his system. This was what he lived and breathed for, a chance to see a _real_ woman, to lift her perfect little body from immanent doom, feel her shiver against him…

They had been fighting together for almost a year and a half now, and he had hardly been able to look anywhere else in nearly as long. Few women could hope to compare to his young charge, both in looks and personality. Few, he amended, meaning none. It was this train of thought that had lead him to believe that all other females were completely hopeless, and not some ridiculous self worship as others tended to view it. It was simply that the Senshi herself would be the only one occupying his mind at any particular moment, and no other could ever come close. A year and a half was a long time to fight together. His thoughts were merely a natural extension of the time spent.

Well, today's battle would go just a little bit differently. After all, today was August 3rd. The wolfish grin split his handsome face as he leapt toward the scene. He'd never been given a birthday present that he actually enjoyed in his life, but that didn't mean it was going to stay that way. If the lithe little blonde's body language had anything to do with it, she wouldn't have any objections at all.

Usagi was tired and sick, two things that made the trip to the Hikawa shrine long and unpleasant. The hot August sun felt as though it were sizzling the uncomfortable weight in her lungs like fried eggs, and it burned through her short sleeve t-shirt like it was nothing. It was just a few days after her less than triumphant fight with Mamoru, and she had spent them simpering in bed with the flu. A heavy cough ripped at her tiny frame as she shivered again. She shouldn't be out right now, it was only about half way through the virus, her mom had said. That much was obvious though, her head felt dizzy and light, and her stomach churned abominably in the humidity.

The others had called a meeting of some kind. It was a worthless gesture since the Dark Kingdom hadn't attacked in the past two weeks and nothing new had turned up according to Ami-chan's computer. A dark look flittered between her golden eyebrows as she thought about Rei's voice over the communicator. This meeting had to be so she could rub her all-powerful skills in Usagi's face, or that the great fire had somehow tipped off her inner psycho-whatever. The brunette hadn't even asked if she was feeling any better. Of course, she assumed that little bundle of joy probably sprouted from the arcade the other day.

Ami and Rei had tried to come over after the fight, but Usagi had no desire to see them. It was true; she had been in love with Mamoru for nearly a year and a half now and hadn't known it until just recently. She didn't really see how that was possible, given his egotistical, self centered attitude, but there were times when he just seemed so…alone. It was in those times that that soft little place in her heart would burn a little, ache a little to help him be happy. Oh, but what a stupid thought that had been. Chiba Mamoru was always alone, and he preferred it that way.

Yet another silent tear squeezed out past her eyelashes, marking at least the millionth since his harsh words. Maybe even worse than all of that was the knowledge that it would take a very long time to forget him. She knew only because she'd been trying to do that since day one. It was so obvious that he could have his pick of any of the smart, sophisticated college girls that made up the core of his fan-club, that he could send any girl screaming over the edge with one look, one smile. She had known that if her feelings were ever to be public knowledge, he would laugh that chillingly cold December laugh, and crush her fragile heart into the ice. Hence why she had been trying so hard to forget everything she'd ever felt for him since the beginning.

Well, a lot of good that did her. She'd just blurted it out in a fit of rage, not even thinking about it…

No. She wasn't going to think about that day. She was going to move on. She was going to stop eating at the crown, stop hanging out at the corner on her way to school, stop staring at him as he drank his coffee, and stop watching him read in the park. She nibbled her lip at all of those determinations, suddenly realizing what a stalker she'd turned out to be. Her mother would be so proud. A sloppy little giggle broke free from her somber face at her mother's antics.

A shrill baby cry broke through the afternoon din and Usagi felt her nerves stand painfully at attention. Her breathing was hampered due to the current state of her lungs, but she could tell the child was terrified. Another voice soon followed and her feet began to pound across the pavement toward them. If it was just a mother…if it was just a little tizzy…. Her stomach vaulted in protest to her movements just as she slid to a stop in front of a small house. The sign outside read Baby Garden Adventures, and would have been passed off as nothing if several more hollers hadn't erupted at the same time.

Her Senshi senses heightened to the call and she glanced around curiously, hoping for some place to hide among the humble, one story suburban houses. The only cover in sight was a small trash can and the homes themselves. Grumbling to herself, she quietly made her way to the neighbor's yard, and hoped no hentai middle-school students were home to watch the light show.

Her henshin was done quickly, made awkward by a small lapdog that seemed a little too interested in the transformation process for her comfort. Moon quickly moved toward the back of the yard, noting methodically that something big and slimy was currently draining a caretaker as Jadeite looked on in the background. Anger sizzled just below the surface of her consciousness and she found herself jumping the fence easily despite the sudden loss of vertigo.

"I really hate being a Senshi." She muttered before flinging her tiara with as much energy as she could muster. She flew through the introductions quickly, noting that Jadeite didn't bother to stick around for the whole fight, though it began in a matter of seconds after the speech. She hadn't bothered to call the other girls in her rush to save the children, and normally wouldn't have been bothered by it. Unfortunately, she forgot about having the flu.

Her body was slow and sluggish due to the fever that still wracked her system, making it difficult to dodge all of the attacks. She wasn't used to being thrown around on an upset stomach either, and quickly found herself weaving sickly between hits. She should have taken time to call the Senshi, but the thought hadn't crossed her mind before jumping to the lady's aid, and now wasn't the best time to be doing so. Her mouth tightened into a grim smile. No doubt the others would find more than enough fault there.

The young girl felt a little punch drunk after the second explosion and found herself going down on both knees to regain the moment. Her head hurt abominably and kept spinning around in circles. She was bad enough normally, but not feeling well made her klutz attacks ten times worse. The babies were screaming bloody murder in her ears, the youma was laughing and firing exploding diapers at her, and she felt the whole world tilt sideways as her legs slipped out from under her. Pathetic tears rolled down her cheeks as the ground met her aching sides, her stomach lurching in protest to all the commotion.

Her hands went beneath her to steady the rumbling ground as she struggled back to her knees. Her stomach lurched hard within her, leaving the girl gasping and clutching her pounding head as the smell of her half-eaten sandwich returned full force. One glance downward proved the unthinkable as she forced herself to look away. Of all the weak, pathetic things she could have…thrown up in the middle of a battle?! She really WAS the biggest ditz in all of Tokyo!

Sailor Moon forced herself to her feet, wobbling only slightly though the pressure had been removed from her head. It was a little crazy, but that made her feel _loads_ better! Suddenly the monster didn't seem nearly as scary as it had before as she ripped the moon wand from her subspace pocket. That might have been due to the fact that he wasn't even facing her.

Her movements were cut short as the monster lifted a young screaming child from the ground. Her breathing stopped at the sight of the little thing. His face was screwed up tightly in irritation and fear, pudgy little cheeks dyed red in the afternoon light. One gloved fist clenched in anger, her legs moving unbidden beneath her.

She swung out a heavy roundhouse, easily knocking the diapered atrocity to the ground as she dove for the shrieking child. Her knees slammed hard into the grass, baby held precariously in her quickly weakening arms. She jumped to her feet, hurriedly racing across the lawn to get as far away from the monster as possible. The pounding of its footsteps weren't far behind before her foot caught on a toy and sent her sprawling into the ground. She cradled the baby close, careful to take the brunt of the impact as rocks and dirt dug painfully across her side.

She was _so_ stupid! The child was screeching murder directly into her throbbing head, the youma sure to attack any moment, and she _trips_?! She clutched at his tiny frame, waiting for the monster to attack as her fingers fumbled for the tiara once more. Her actions were too late, thought. One large, strong fist closed around her throat and yanked, spots swam before her eyes and her grip fell slack as she was mercilessly hauled into the air. The combination of energy loss and asphyxiation on her tired body sent all thoughts of counter attack skittering into the darkening corners of her mind. She just felt weak and tired, she wanted the fighting to stop long enough to make some sense of it all, and she wanted desperately to find the poor child's mother.

Why am I such a failure, she thought as the hot tears poured from her eyes once more. Knowing her plight was seconds from ending, she reached limply for the frightened child as the hope drained from her limbs.

Then, it was over. The world slammed into her aching legs, ground across her forearms, and scratched her face. She gulped greedily at the air, coughing against the painfully restricted airway as it struggled to regain its shape. Her vision cleared slowly as the earth rumbled in response to an attack. The Senshi? She coughed again, groping blindly in the grass to find the baby from earlier.

"It's ok, Moon, I've got him." The dark timbre of his voice might as well have been the halleluiah chorus for all it mattered to her. His hand gripped her elbow, helped her to stand and steady herself as the world washed itself in color. The strange golden sparks crackled along her arm from his hand, strengthening her for the final attack. "One shot," he called through the battle cry of the monster, "Can you make it without hitting the caretaker?"

She nodded mutely, straightening as her weapon was summoned a second time. With his hand at her back and a quick glance behind at the children, she set her feet and hefted the wand high in the air. Her voice was soft and pathetic, and she felt the energy draining from her body to arc toward the weapon and onward at the monster before her. The sizzling energy burned at her fingers painfully, sent ants crawling along her arms in weariness as the attack hurtled toward the monster, ending the painful shriek of anger that threatened to make her head explode.

The sudden unbearable weight of her body left her a slumping mess on the ground, aching head lowered as the spinning effect took it's toll. She felt sick all over again, but was sure that any sign of her illness would only cause to enrage her quiet protector and get her yelled at from yet another side. She had no intention of letting him know about her stupid little escapade that nearly got her killed, but instead took the moment to steady herself before sending dazed blue eyes around the small yard.

Much to her relief, Tuxedo Kamen had beaten a hasty retreat after the attack, per norm, and left her to deal with whatever was left over. Though part of her truly despised that particular habit of his, she was also infinitely grateful that he'd chosen to do so today of all days. After all, one good look at her and the inconspicuous pile of vomit on the other side of the yard would be enough evidence for a conviction. She grimaced at her thoughts, forcing her jellied legs to work as she hefted herself up from the ground.

Tuxedo Kamen watched in interest as the young woman surged to her feet. Her stance was wary and confused as she scanned the area cautiously, golden head turning toward the cowering children in concern first and foremost. The action brought a strange twitch in his chest, and he allowed himself little time to wonder curiously at his reaction as he watched her. She bent to check each one, long curves prominently displayed as she reached for them, touching their faces with all the tenderness of a mother.

The young girl was careful to examine each tiny bundle, leaving him completely baffled. She was wasting precious time, the news vans would be pulling up soon. Anyone within a mile and a half would have heard the explosions and come running. But she was still crouching there, fingers tugging playfully at one tiny baby as she grinned softly. Across the yard, the caretaker was beginning to come around, shifting uncomfortably on the grass and signaling the end had come for the delighted blond. Moon took one look at the recovering woman before placing the baby down into the grass again. Kamen shoved his earlier thoughts to the side resolutely, mouth trained into a grim smile as he watched her turn toward the city.

His timing would have to be immaculate; he'd never followed her despite selfish curiosity. Her civilian form was an honor he was willing to earn with time, so he wanted to be sure and catch her in uniform. He had no desire to rush things; the goal was a solid, permanent arrangement and absolute trust on both sides. However those two things might come, he was willing to sacrifice both pride and time to achieve them. The plans had been made far in advance, her reaction had been painstakingly prognosticated, and therefore all was within his mathematically engineered grasp. The grin became soft and confident as he quickly raced after the object of his infatuation.

His feelings, he was sure, spouted from a pure source within. He had known the effects of blind lust more than a few times, but what he felt for the young warrior was definitely more refined than just that. He'd been unimpressed at first, what with her shrieking helplessly like a frightened child. It was another point to women that he'd noted; place any woman in a dangerous situation and they'll sit and scream blood murder till someone useful came along to save them.

She'd started out just like the rest of the simpering little nothings he'd been dealing with for years. But in time, she'd developed, grown stronger –and with that quickly tightening backbone of hers, so had his strangely reeling heart. Anymore it was all he could do to tear his hands free in time for her finishing attack. And, it was with the dawning realization of his obsession with her, that he knew these short little get-togethers were definitely not enough to satiate the need…

Of course she would have to find an appropriate place to de-transform, safely tucked away from the eyes of the world before making her way back into the crowds. It was with this thought that he followed for a good two miles before the Moon Senshi dropped down between two buildings, signaling his moment had come. At least she had the luxury of any old alleyway, he mused ironically to himself. Maybe if he could figure out a way to ditch the fan club for good he could do the same, and actually show up on time for once. He leapt down on the other end, careful not to make a sound as he landed and released the pent up energy swirling around his form.

Chiba Mamoru stood there moments later, raking a hand through his hair and checking farther down to make sure she hadn't noticed any sudden movements. Her fingers were clawing at the choker around her pale neck, face flushed and breathing hampered. The sight was normal after a two mile run; it was a distance his little heroine could handle easily he was sure. He couldn't have timed it better had he known how to; she was obviously hesitating to change back. He slinked forward carefully, eyes latched to her soft form lit by the gentle sunlight filtering in from above. He would have taken a moment to admire the long golden curls playing in the afternoon rays as he usually did, but time was a factor. Any moment she could de-transform and unknowingly surrender her identity to him.

"Excuse me," he called softly, watching as her warrior instincts shot her up from against the building, fighter stance ready as she peered toward him. Apparently he had chosen the perfect hiding spot; she seemed unable to pierce the gloom with those soft silvery-blue eyes. He stalked toward the light slowly; afraid moving any faster would cause her to attack in a moment of confusion. Especially after a fight, he was asking to get hit by one of those nasty little roundhouse kicks he'd seen her throw when he arrived at the battle. Even the thought caused a ripple of attraction to erupt in his lower stomach as sunlight finally warmed his face.

He could see her visibly tense at his appearance, eyes slanting guardedly and the muscles in her legs tightening. She must have known he wasn't going to attack; he didn't exactly have anything gelatinous about him, or even an extra leg or arm or something. Her reaction to him was interesting to say the least. He held no particular preconceptions, after all Moon might never have heard of him if she only got out for battles, but he had been named the most eligible bachelor in Tokyo. The title must hold some sort of benefits; and if not the city's most elusive heroine, then this world held no justice.

"Can I help you?" Her stance was defensive, tone closely guarded. He found himself glancing around the alley way once more to make sure they were alone. Should any of his fan club catch wind of this, he would never get a moment's peace with her. She had haunted his fantasies for nearly a year and a half now, and he had every intention of making those dreams a reality. His eyes raked along her form quickly, re-enforcing his previous thoughts as they met with soft, defined curves. The fuku had to have been designed by a mastermind, tiny blue skirt bunched just at the waist, concave stomach in smooth white, perfect breasts hidden behind a teasing red bow. That was his most favorite part of the whole outfit, the fact that it both drew attention to her assets, yet still managed to hide enough to be sexy.

And as strange as the thought was, he was absolutely sure he hadn't noticed those curves when they first met, or else he would have liked her from the beginning. Of course, that was impossible, he must have just not noticed or something. It was a moot point, and he had other things to worry about, anyway. One was the fact that she was quite tense and ready to spring; the other would be their less than romantic surroundings.

Cornered on every side by garbage and filth, it took all his concentration to will her eyes to lock against his. The shared gaze was filled with guarded confusion, no small amount of fear and, he was sure, attraction. The thought caused a simmering feeling to race through him, his eyes intense and burning against hers. With a confident little smirk, he realized that even Sailor Moon would make eyes at his civilian form, and with his mirroring affections, it would be the last relationship he'd ever have to worry about.

"Yes, actually." He kept his tone cool and refined, his smile the dashing devil-may care piece that got him his last photo shoot. "My name is Chiba Mamoru," he began smoothly, but was surprised at her sudden reaction. A flippant hand waved away the sense of intimacy he'd fought to create, and frustrated his perfectly set smile.

"I know who you are. What do you want?" she barked angrily, form tense and shifting as if he made her nervous. He stilled instantly, realizing she could run and easily evade the situation should he make even one faulty move. He had been through the chase many times, and had always won. This time, however, it began to dawn on the young man that he might actually have to put effort behind his advance –something he had never had to do before. A soft whistle broke past his lips in appreciation, noting both her words and demeanor.

"Well, I'm flattered, then." He murmured softly, stuffing a hand in his pocket and slitting both eyes to look her over again. Though she professed to know him, he couldn't see even a hint of a blush from where he stood. Not only that, but she seemed a little put off by him. Interesting. His eyes trailed over her form again, wondering if they had met somewhere along the way and he simply hadn't recognized her in civilian clothes. But one glance at that figure told him definitely not. After all, it took more than just a few curves to catch his eye, and frankly Moon in any clothing would have done just that. His eyes flitted upward again, noting her hesitance and the near panicked look in her eyes before they slanted angrily again, her chin tilting upward in defiance.

"Did you want something? Because if not, I'll…"

"No." His self assured reply came as quickly as her anger, cutting her off mid sentence. "No, I did want to talk to you." He sighed, shaking his head just enough to catch the sunlight and shatter it in the shadow of his hair. He was dragging the conversation out too long, setting her on edge. It definitely wasn't what he'd been looking to do as he watched her carefully. She was nibbling at her lower lip nervously, and the sight nearly forced a lusty moan from his mouth before he could cut it off quickly. Ask her out first, then worry about getting a little closer. Determination fueled him then as he continued nonchalantly, forcing his eyes to lock against hers again "Actually, I was wondering if you might be willing to waste an evening on me."

He had chosen his words carefully, allowing both for modesty and a proper amount of space should she back off. Had they met each other once in real life, there was no doubt in his mind that she would jump at the offer and swoon (in a pleasing manner) right into his arms. He was, after all, the biggest catch in all of Tokyo, one that could easily vie for her affections. And should she refuse, well, he knew she had a thing for Tuxedo Kamen as well, so it would all be the same in the end anyway. She was shaking her head softly, as if trying to disperse a cloud in her thoughts before looking back at him with an adorably furrowed brow.

"I'm sorry, would you say that again? I think I heard you wrong." She murmured in disbelief. He had to force the wicked grin from his mouth, eyes softening predatorily as he took a few more steps toward her. Close enough to reach out and touch her now, he allowed the sweet feeling of victory to uncoil within him. Even she was surprised and flattered at his affections. One could almost hear him purr in contentment like a recently fed jaguar as her features softened from confusion and disbelief to something more intimate at his proximity. From here, he could smell the soft, feminine allure of her perfume, and felt a hungry rumble beginning low in his gut.

"I understand things might be difficult, given your occupation, but I think you'll find I'm flexible." One again, his words were carefully chosen, knowing that such a relationship would involve no small amount of difficulty should she choose to accept. Her cheeks flushed prettily in the afternoon sunlight as he watched her piece together the conversation in her mind slowly. "How about dinner at my apartment? It's safe, inconspicuous…"

"You're asking me out?" She sputtered confusedly, eyes impossibly wide and body tense. "But I'm Sailor Moon!" she all but screamed, as if that alone would be the obvious breaking factor. His grin became lazy, eyes trailing down from hers in sweet appreciation of her long, curvy form. It was the longest he'd ever stood close to her for, and it did things to his insides any fully clothed woman shouldn't be allowed to do. Her flushing cheeks darkened at his wandering eyes, again causing the simmering feeling of contentment in his lower abdomen. The beautiful warrior was obviously heating up, and he had every intention of keeping her that way.

"Trust me," he all but purred at her, "I noticed."

He watched as her eyes became impossibly wide, a shiver breaking across her skin. She had that look of a woman who knew she'd been caught, and knew full well what came next. He had to squash the sense of victory, knowing the blond put up the best fight when cornered. Yet her jaw unhinged the slightest bit, eyes glazed in what he could only assume as passion, and her body tensed beautifully. He didn't even have to take the extra step to close the distance between them, any moment now the girl would simply launch herself into his arms and finish the conversation with a kiss she was obviously dying for.

But a moment later sent that thought crashing to pieces as her mouth closed, eyes clouded in thought. He was still confident, though, having known she would be a challenge. No doubt she was wondering what would happen between them after the dinner, whereas Mamoru held no doubts. It was all in love, though, certainly not lust. After all, he'd known the girl for a year and a half, and his affections certainly weren't just for her body. There were other things about her that he admired quite deeply, he reminded himself, and she would simply have to recognize that his intentions (though not entirely pure) were from the heart she'd helped him discover.

"I'm sorry." She murmured, straightening her position and returning to her earlier demeanor. The triumphant grin slid from his face at her words, body suddenly tense as he realized exactly what was going to happen. "I cannot accept your offer. I have no time for such things. Excuse me."

A moment later, she was leaping up toward the roofs, and leaving a very shocked and outraged young man behind her. She had refused? Why?! He had the looks, the money, the brains; he could easily get any girl he wanted –so why had she so blatantly declined? She…maybe wasn't herself today? For a split second, she had seemed so human, so normal… and she had looked at him in the most intriguing way with those silvery blue eyes. He had almost called an early victory at the soft look in them, had been seconds from reaching out to take her into his arms and steal the first kiss….

His mouth tightened into a thin line at the memory of her last little sad look in his direction. It had leaked out from behind the aloof air she'd tried to throw him. He had caught the inner struggle going through those silvery blue eyes, had watched as she warred within herself…it had to be something else. In the end, she had lost to some previous variable he would never know. Whatever it was obviously hurt her, made her more distant, more angry. Yes, something was definitely wrong. Her actions had been exactly opposite of what he would have assumed given her personality…

Concern for the young super hero fueled with desire sent him bolting after her, this time in uniform. She had already made it a few blocks by the time he finally caught sight of her, it would take a few more before he was close enough to slip around her and hide behind a service door a few buildings ahead. His movements could have been calculated, for moments later she landed calmly on this last roof, form perfectly outlined by the red blaze of a dying summer day. Golden curls not unlike a war banner flew back from her body in the salty ocean breeze that whistled past her.

Kamen watched mutely for a moment of shear male appreciation as the long, curvy lines of her body were clearly outlined in hues that seemed too harsh and masculine for one so tiny. It was in this moment that he witnessed something that even he, whom had been with her from the very start, had never expected. One long, white gloved hand rose to her face, glistening like diamonds in the course of tears wiped from her perfect eyes. It was something that, given recent context, should not be happening. After all, Sailor Moon was a girl, just like any other girl (except with powers and responsibility) and therefore should have been overjoyed at the recent declaration of love from one of the most eligible bachelors in all of Japan.

Instead, she cried softly to the oncoming night, pulling those long, lightly muscled arms around her shivering form despite the heat that permeated both skin and bone. It called to him, begged him for some form of comfort. Yet, once again, the context showed all to the contrary. Instead, he stepped a few feet closer to her, eyes trained easily to her golden hair, wishing she would turn and face him. She either could not hear the silent pleas, or pointedly refused and ignored them. It was enough that even he, Tuxedo Kamen, felt the sting within his chest as her head lowered in abject sorrow.

He had never known Sailor Moon on a personal level of any kind. Of course, there were all outward signs which any fool could follow, that she was imperfect and childish, that her sweetness and compassion quickly outweighed any sense of personal danger or logic. But none of this information had ever reached a deep, abiding level. It was for this reason he felt the need for caution, masking his true identity even further within the shrouds of his cloak. He had only known her on the surface, as a warrior. Hence, he had hoped to reach the more profound, inner aspect of the woman that lay beneath all the bravado, the speeches, and the very short skirt. He had hoped more than anything that she would accept him in his human form such that the trust could be gained with time. Certainly he had never expected her outright refusal, given his alter-ego's pristine reputation. Given how he was viewed by the other Senshi, it had seemed like the perfect plan to win her affections. His mouth tightened into a firm line at his final step.

"Moon?" His smooth voice all but rippled through the oncoming air as she stilled. The nearly invisible shaking of her shoulders eased, giving them a very downcast slant as she turned slowly to face him. The crystalline tears still falling from her eyes captured and refracted the fading light with an intensity that easily could have blinded him had he been at all a weaker man. Despite the raging attraction he felt at her nearness, he strengthened his resolve and stepped forward a little more until her cute little face was forced to look up at him. "What's wrong? He didn't…say anything, did he?"

The words where weighted correctly, though he knew the answer, such that the perfectly formed Amazon before him would never have guessed it was him. She shook her head silently, turning her face toward the last moments of an agonized sunset blazing across the multifaceted waters. Her eyes held that same intensity; that strange feeling of a dying glory mirrored before them. The thought caused his chest to tighten unbearably as yet another salty track burned itself to her softly illuminated cheek.

"I have to admit, I'm a little surprised." He stated softly, careful to reel in the unmistakable urge to gather her up and soak the strange grief from her usually happy persona. "I would have thought an attractive girl your age would have leapt at the chance to date the mysterious Chiba Mamoru."

Devastation distorted the angelic lines of her face as a feeble, agonized laugh scratched hard nails against the tender moment. Such a broken laugh he considered a sacrilege on the usually upturned little mouth. One hand traveled up to cup her forehead as she bent once more in despair, heavy sobs beating against the smooth line of her shoulders. He could no longer restrain himself as tuxedo clad arms bunched around her shivering form and hauled her tight against his chest. Her hair, whipped by the wind, returned the embrace that she did not. And though she seemed grateful for his concern and time, her eyes did not lift to meet his, her arms were crossed resolutely around herself, and the sobs ripped at her small form with an intensity that both shocked and frightened the young college man.

"I'm so sorry, Tuxedo Kamen-sama," she choked after regaining herself and quickly wound her way free of him. Even her hair seemed to retract as the breeze shifted direction in the early twilight. He couldn't help but feel…colder now that the bundle of sunshine gold was no longer held close against him. In the quickly darkening night, he could see that the curve of her shoulders was still alarmingly unsteady and that she seemed much more pale than usual. The rising moon was but a small sliver in the velvety blue-violet sky, hardly showing a wink of it's naturally silver light as they stood quietly, regarding each other through separate masks.

"What happened, Sailor Moon? Why are you so…different after meeting with him? Did he hurt you? Did he…touch you?" Behind the impenetrable white domino mask, he truly felt concern, wondering if he had said something offensive (as was his nature) and not known it. But, retracing the short conversation in his mind, he reassured himself that, in fact, there had not been one word she could have taken wrongly. He had simply asked for an evening along with her. So why…why was she crying so brokenly now? Why did her usually bright eyes seem so shadowed in pain and loneliness? Why did she not even care to be comforted by her much adored hero?

"No…no of course not…" she whispered between gasps of cool night air. Her chest was heaving with the effort it took to control the earth shattering sobs and she trembled helplessly before the shiver crawling along her spine. Obviously, he had not been the only one to register the change in temperature. Immediately, the cloak was swung from his back to envelope the young hero. She did not even bother to raise a hand to hold it in place against the oncoming wind.

"Am I to gather, then, that your affections are being saved for another?" he paused for a moment, a sly grin lightening the mood. "Me, perhaps?" Despite his obvious attempt to draw her attention from whatever it was that bothered her, she did not to rise to the occasion. Instead a bitter, self mocking laugh fell from her sweet mouth to shatter the light mood like fine glass. The shards left behind scraped and cut against his conscience as she curled herself even tighter beneath the cloak.

"Please, Tuxedo Kamen-sama. Like I could ever be more than just a charge to you." She paused to sniffle as the weight of her silent accusation found place among the earlier wounds left by her laugh. "The only reason you even save me is because I'm too stupid and slow to save myself anyway." Had she left him enough room to object, it wouldn't have mattered. Processing the information even at his speed could never have produced a logical answer in the short span of her weak coughing and shivering.

"The truth is," she continued, unperturbed by his shocked silence as her shame-filled gaze focused on the red tips of her boots poking out beneath black velvet. "I-I do…" the breath left her lungs before she could finish the statement. Undeterred, though, she gasped in another as a strange sense of strength came to her weakening form. "I do love him. So much that…so much it hurts. But," she paused again to allow for a sudden hiccup to betray the faulty strength that had moments before possessed her shivering body. "But he…" another shiver broke the sentence in pieces as her eyes once more rose to meet the city skyline behind him. "…doesn't love me."

The weighted moment forced all earlier thoughts from Tuxedo Kamen's mind as her soft words threaded out like fingers into the quickly dimming night. But it was impossible for her statement to be true. He was himself the same Chiba Mamoru who had just barely declared his love for the young Senshi, and had waited with baited breath to hear her heart-wrenching refusal. Once again, it was completely impossible for the reality of her words to shed any light on the current situation, and silently forbade his superior intellect the ability to find even one logical scrap behind her accusation.

But then, it hit him. He could never love _her_, the girl behind the Senshi. The reasoning behind her subtle words struck a very sensitive cord in his chest as he realized that behind the self-assured warrior before him lay a very human, very young girl –who no doubt, had taken one look at what others had deemed 'perfection' and ran in the opposite direction in fear. It was such a human reaction that the young man actually felt his jaw unhinge a little in utter disbelief. He had never assumed that behind the short skirt and cute button nose was an insecure, very human, girl.

"You don't know that." He murmured gently, an alien gentleness coaxing his voice in a way he'd never heard it before. "If you love him, you should have given him the benefit of the doubt. Given time, he would have accepted you no matter who you are." A betraying smile crept across his face as he gazed at her. "You're too amazing not to."

Neither his words nor his eyes could comfort her, though. Too far gone in the shadow of despair, she hunched over in the cloak, turning away from her dark savior in a move that deftly blocked him and his comfort out of her consciousness. Her stubborn refusal and quick reaction ripped the strange feeling of humanity from his chest and replaced it with the ice he had felt there his whole life. It was an unpleasant emotion, and one he had been sure would never have been caused by her. After all, it was her sunny disposition and crazy antics that had first caught his attentions at their fated meeting. Now, it seemed, her role had changed her completely beneath the refining pressure of responsibility and self-control.

"You don't seem to understand," Her voice barely registered above the sudden gust of wind that ripped the cloak from her shoulders and lost it to the darkness around them. She had taken the short moment to calm her breathing, and now spoke dispassionately to the air around them, her statements born on a pain far deeper than he could understand. "I have already spoken to Mamoru-san. He told me himself, in no uncertain terms, that he could never love me. Just some shadow of myself that happens to have a glamour. Some sick sliver of myself that has now taken everything from me that I ever cared about. And in some ridiculous show of irony, she's the only part of me that will ever be worthy of praise.

"My parents are disgusted with me because they assume I am some brain-dead, irresponsible teenager that sneaks out in the middle of the night for no reason. My teachers all think that I'm some retarded freak that can't seem to do her homework or even score reasonably on a test. All of my friends that I had before have been taken from me because I'm terrified they'll get hurt –and all of the new friends that I have now are only because they share in the responsibility. And now Mamoru-san…" she choked over the fast words spilling from her soul like a bleeding wound begging to rid itself of rotten puss, yet stumbling because there was so much left unsaid. "Even he loves her…not me. Never me."

He had remained silent during the painfully accusing tirade she offered brokenly to the night. In a strange sense, he felt as if he had intruded on her innermost thoughts. They were the demons even she had not bothered to face before his declaration had ripped open the door. His near silent curse at his own stupidity was whispered to the vacant, uncaring starlight above them. The steady, beating rhythm of the salty waves did nothing to calm the burning self-doubt and idiocy that threatened to bury him alive. One would think that he, of all people, would have been more sensitive to the fact that his one true love had another side to her. All earlier comments were completely erased beneath the cold, uncaring hand he'd dealt her unknowingly.

"Sailor Moon," he called a moment later over the clash of his shoes against cement. She turned her head just enough to peer over one perfectly curved shoulder. The wind blew a strand of that glorious hair across her face, lodging against the tears the wind had not yet whipped from her cheeks. He stepped closer, till they're bodies were nearly touching and the cool summer night air barely whistled between them. "I would accept you." His voice was raw and desperate, his fingers tugging the stray hair from her face. "_I would accept you_!" the hand that had wiped away her tears deftly gripped the perfect curve of her neck and skull such that she had no choice but to look up at him through unnaturally thick lashes. His breathing was deep and even despite the rage glowing behind the iridescent white mask; exactly opposite to hers which mingled against his mouth in short, almost terrified gasps.

"I didn't fall for you simply because you wore a mini skirt, or danced around giving speeches to half crazed monsters from hell. And even though your right hook is pretty amazing for a girl, I'm definitely not in love with you for it." The other hand reached upward to knock the top hat from his head and sent the white domino mask fluttering into the depths of night. "I fell in love with your smile."

Only silence met him as he stared down at her through shaded eyes. It took a bare moment before recognition slithered across her features and she ripped herself away from him. Her reaction, though tightening the aching throb in his chest, had been exactly as he would have imagined it only a moment before. Horrified at her unwitting confession mere minutes before the mask finally fell from his heavy blue eyes, the young woman could barely remain standing as she skittered across the rooftop on unsteady legs. He grimly let her go for a moment, allowing the precious space she needed in the wake of such a closely guarded secret, then followed at an even pace. Finally, her legs could hold out no more as she crashed to her knees in shock. The curly, golden curtain of her hair quickly sheltered her small form to his view. Instead of pressing the matter, as he so dearly wanted to do, he simply stood there for a moment, regarding her shaking body in the shadows.

"I…love," he began again, afraid his earlier confession hadn't been enough to prove his intentions to her, "that you sacrifice your safety to keep the other Senshi from getting hurt. I love that you put your whole heart and soul into something you obviously hate just to keep your friends safe. And I…" he paused, a shudder of pleasure rippling through him at the thought, "I love that you tremble in my arms. God, I _love _when you do that…"

His words seemed to fall on deaf ears as the wind continued to whistle cheerfully past them. He watched, mesmerized as her soft curls unwound in midair, how her Senshi uniform swished magically across creamy thighs and the scent of her girlish vanilla-laced perfume mingled with ocean and night musk. Though her shoulders were still unsteady, and though she shivered helplessly against the wind, she did not move to look at him. Pristine white gloves clutched at her arms till he could see the visible discoloration in the half light surrounding them, and her fingers seemed taut with the pressure being exerted.

He stood helplessly by, missing the usually comforting weight of his cloak hanging from his shoulders. By now, it had probably carried far enough away to dissipate into whatever it was that made it. His thoughts would not follow that particular path, though; he was much too concerned at her silence. She had already refused him once today, and to hear her even attempt to do so again would put a rather serious damper on his spirits. Not that it would deter him, of course, she'd already admitted to returning said feelings. It meant that in all probability she would soon succumb to them, as he had, and the beautiful little warrior would finally –_finally_ be his.

The gloves on his hands loosened as he came forward, his eyes trained on the waterfall of shimmering golden locks currently blocking his view from her face. He had wanted for so long just to touch the teasingly fine tresses, out of curiosity alone for the texture. The few times he'd been lucky enough to feel it touch his face had been split second rescues, where safety had been paramount, and attraction an afterthought. But now, when she was kneeling before him, very much in need of comfort, he could indulge a little in the fantasy. Her shoulder was still shaking as his fingers brushed the exquisite fabric of her fuku, lifting a single golden tress long enough to feel it curl around his hand.

Her arms lashed out, slapping his touch away as she stumbled to her feet, eyes wide and angry. He had seen the look many times, as she had delivered an enraged speech or attack, and could easily see the mask of anger she hid behind. Her eyes flashed dangerous sapphire, lips in an adorably thin line and face flush with wrath. This…was not at all what he'd been expecting…

"You showed me this because…what, you love me? You trust me?" He nodded the affirmative, watching her curiously as she came forward on sure feet. The clack of her legendary red boots reverberated in the silence like a death chant as she closed the distance between them. "Maybe you should have paid more attention to that right hook!"

A moment later, all he felt was the blinding pain of his nose being smashed beneath her fist before his head slammed into the pavement. Stunned, angry curses spewed from his normally calm mouth. He clutched at his gushing face in shock as the darkness closed around him.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter three

The frustrated slap of heavy textbooks echoed in the vapid room. One could almost hear the exasperated noise slither along the bare walls of the hallway and nestle deeply in the back rooms as a testament to the pensive anger radiating from the front room. The usually clean space was spattered here and there with misplaced objects, conspicuous clues to the frustration he'd felt recently. Littered across the living room table haphazardly were books of every kind, spilling over the edge and onto the plain beige carpeting below like fallen toy soldiers.

Midnight black locks hung low as the soft sigh broke through the enclosing hands to follow the path of his earlier frustration. Try as he might, none of these subjects held any interest to him as they had done before. Every time he even bothered to think about his school work, the issue would somehow weasel it's way into his brain and stick there. Tired hands massaged his wearied face as he forced himself to breathe slowly. It had been a few days since the night on the rooftops, and he wasn't entirely sure when things had gotten so far out of control.

Gentle fingertips brushed along his still-bruising nose bridge, and he wondered once again if his powers had saved him from instant death that night. Had any of the shards been jettisoned into his brain at that velocity, the gray matter would have resembled something close to Swiss cheese. The force of her punch had completely shattered both bone and cartilage, and had cost one hell of an emergency room visit to fix. Though his powers as Tuxedo Kamen did help the healing process, it would not set bone or reconstruct an entire nose bridge, as only a plastic surgeon could. It was thanks to the psychometry that he didn't have some ridiculous plastic brace stuck to him still. If it hadn't been so blindingly painful, he would have been strangely proud of her for having the guts to do it.

Now the only problem was to figure out what exactly he'd done to incite the violent reaction. She had admitted she loved him, and that was enough for him. He had asked her out, not been too pushy, not sounded arrogant, had waited patiently for the reply. She had refused –and broke his nose. Why?

This new information added a whole new dimension to her personality that he'd never considered before. He'd categorized her as one of those that destiny had just kind of jack-knifed into the position; she always seemed much too sweet and sincere to be in the super-hero business. It was part of her charm, really, because she had to overcome so much of her nature to fight at all. He respected that very deeply, knowing that if he were to attempt such a feat, he'd fail miserably. Most of that came from just being himself for way too long without caring what anyone else thought. It brought a strange sense of satisfaction, knowing he could act as he pleased without feeling guilt or remorse. On more than one occasion, he'd had to deal with the consequences, however little they meant to him on a personal level… But he was getting off subject here.

The point, he concluded, was that Sailor Moon seemed to have a whole other part to her personality –one he'd never even seen, let alone thought of. Despite any earlier calculations, it would seem that this other facet held the tiniest bit of ill-will towards his civilian identity. That meant they had to have met each other previously; and knowing how he was, he'd probably been his usual charming self.

Well, she did happen to be a superhero, and with the title and overwhelming sense of justice. That, however, did not explain how the young girl had gone from young, clueless-ly cute little temptress to knocking him flat on his back. It just didn't make any sense. Girls did _not_ do that. Well, unless she was…

Oh God, that was it! She just had PMS!

A horrified look crept over his features as he thought of it, though. Because, God, if she was like that every month…

His mouth tightened in determination. Well, that did pose as a small problem to his future, however, so long as he kept his eye on her fists and her hands full of chocolate, it shouldn't be an issue.

Right?

Though part of his realization gave him a sense of pride for figuring it out, the other was shuddering. Most girls were scary around that time, but a superhero had to be completely terrifying. He still wanted to date her, he wasn't shallow like that. Besides, he knew tons of guys who were in long term relationships without _too_ many problems… of course they weren't seeing someone who could knock down a building with their backside either.

"That's just disturbing." He muttered quietly, standing to pace around the apartment. The point was, because he'd been sidetracked again, that whether or not this whole problem resulted from hormonal issues was completely irrelevant. She had acted outside the boundary he'd previously seen and set as her undeniable character. And he'd known her for a year and a half, as he'd noted before, and therefore should be a good judge on where that line was. After all, she'd never hauled off and knocked a Youma silly just because it happened to be bad timing for her. She'd always been the same kind of person no matter when things got ugly.

What had been wrong with her? The tightness around his mouth loosened as he thought it over again. She'd been shivering, crying as if her heart were broken. The soft, alien sensation sizzled in his chest a small moment, his hand raising to rub gently over his heart. It had to be love, because any other girl could cry and not get a single reaction from him. Any other girl could turn him down, beat him senseless, or call him a man-whore however they pleased; but to see those tears on her face actually made him feel…guilty.

It was a new sensation. He'd never had any sort of moral code taught to him as a child; well, none that he could remember anyway. This sense of having done something horribly wrong was _not_ normal. Seeing her cry should not affect him as deeply as it did, and he had never wanted anyone as much as her…

For a boy who had never known even a speck of love in his life, it was enough concrete proof to win a court case.

A wicked grin split his face in thought. That wasn't even counting the physical side effects.

Pale, trembling fingers clenched in fury. The silent tapping of water filled the silence with rhythmic indifference. Soft tissues bunched together beneath stern, unimpassioned hands. An angry growl broke the steady strain, filled the tense quiet with every emotion felt.

Rage, hatred, pain.

The thin door was thrown back beneath the torrent of feelings burning through her. How dare he? How dare he speak to her like that? Jerk! The bitter hatred uncoiled unpleasantly in her still queasy stomach, but it was a childish rebellion against the soft drops of sorrow leaking from her face into the carpet. She blinked back the heavy rainfall from her eyes, forced her feet to move uneasily along the hallway to her bedroom. Her soft footsteps did little to sooth the pain, the anger that flooded every nerve; made her wish she was steady enough to stomp her way from the bathroom.

Three days since that night, and Usagi still couldn't believe what had happened. Chiba Mamoru had asked her out! No, she shook her head in bitter confusion, had asked out Sailor Moon! What was the difference between them, though? The warrior was a part of Usagi, wasn't she? Why was it everyone outside of the team looked at her other half as if she were everything good? Why was it Usagi couldn't put one foot in front of the other without _somebody_ (her eyes narrowed ominously) making sarcastic commentary? Had he said anything about her klutz attack that night? No. Had he cared she couldn't even keep her legs under her? No.

Hell, had he even noticed she was _sick_?! No. Why?

Because Chiba Mamoru, though irritatingly perfect in every other aspect, was so completely self centered he hadn't bothered to take time between confessions to at least check and see if she was alright. All he'd done is slung his cape around her shoulders and pretended like that had somehow fulfilled his gentleman quota for the evening! She rolled her eyes angrily at the thought, replaying over and over the whole conversation. Part of her wished she hadn't given away so much information to him without realizing who he was. The other part of her wondered if he'd even listened enough to remember.

Then, he'd talked to her as if she really had no other option than to go out with him. Heck, he'd probably already bought everything for that dinner he'd asked to cook for her, so sure he'd been of her answer. Well, she'd shown him! The jerk; he hadn't even wondered why she didn't say anything after the mask came off. She'd felt so betrayed, knowing she'd just admitted everything to his face –twice! And he just kept coming, just kept talking as if his feelings were the only ones that mattered! He hadn't even bothered to make sense of what she'd been telling him! Everything he said was just another reminder that the only one he wanted was Moon, and that 'given time' he would accept Usagi. Well, of that she held no doubt. Given a time slot of two seconds, he would have thrown her away like so much trash.

Well, she'd beaten him to the punch, so to speak. A lofty smile curled around her mouth as the last few moments of their conversation replayed in her mind.

Hers and Mamoru's relationship could be called anything except civil. They'd always gotten on each other's nerves, always yelled like schoolyard children, and frankly, had always hated each other. Well, till she had to go and ruin everything by falling in love with the idiot. Why had she done that again? He was everything dark and brooding and bitter, and she was the exact opposite. And no, the term opposites attract meant nothing to her. It was almost as if she was drawn to him. It was almost as if she had no choice but to love him, even though really she hated him.

It was for that reason that she'd fought it so hard. She didn't want to be attracted to that jerk! Other than looks, he had nothing going for him that she would normally see as attractive. He was a know-it-all, snobby, upper-class playboy who had no respect for anything female. She did _not_ have a bad boy complex. Her father had been perfectly clear that when she was old enough to date, (which according to him wouldn't happen for another twenty years) she would choose the most gentlemanly, sweet man she was capable of finding. He would treat her like a queen, or her father would…do something rather unpleasant.

And let's face it, Chiba Mamoru was less than gentlemanly. His mannerisms raved of high society, but his personality came straight from the gutter. And even though literally every girl that crossed his path seemed madly in love with him, Usagi had not just fallen into the trap because of the 'in' crowd. She'd fought every sensation tooth and nail, denied the existence of it, hidden it under her bed, in the back of her mind, kicked it, drowned it, stabbed it over with every horrible aspect of his character, and when that didn't work, she cried.

That day had been awful too. She had finally given up trying to deny any feelings for him, but she had decided to wait it out. When she'd gotten out of detention, her first thought had been Crown, her sweet 'older brother' and the brooding enemy. What she'd found had been something else entirely. He'd sat there, staring dejectedly into his coffee mug with his unkempt hair hanging in front of his eyes. She had wanted very badly to say something snide, make him forget his ridiculous addiction. Instead, a very soft feeling was burned into her chest …because he'd looked so lonely….

"No…" She moaned, dragging the word out to cover at least six syllables as the covers where thrown over her head. Hot tears poured freely from her eyes as the same sensation sizzled in her heart. Even the thought of him looking so abandoned made her ache…made her want to hold him….

She sobbed helplessly into the pillow, cursing herself over and over again for being so weak, so pathetic. Usagi had never seen herself as strong, but this was just…too much. She had no reason to cry over a pig like him because _she'd_ turned him down this time, and by every right. So why did it hurt like hell to think about him? Why did she find herself wondering if that same soft look of abandonment was on his face right now…

"Get out of my head…." She whimpered softly, wishing the cotton in her ears would shift even a few inches and block out her disturbing thoughts. Her tongue felt like socks, her blood sizzled with fever, and her stomach churned stubbornly, refusing to admit it was already empty from the previous three trips to the bathroom. She was sick and tired and couldn't sleep and could stop thinking and her head hurt and she just wanted…

"Who are you talking to, dear?" The sound of footsteps accompanied the soft creaking of rusty hinges. The young girl stilled beneath the covers, hurriedly wiped the tears from her eyes and turned away. It was bad enough to cry over something so ridiculous, but to have her mother catch her was just not right. Especially since she couldn't offer a valid excuse without getting in trouble.

"No one." She answered quietly. Both arms wrapped around her stomach carefully as the covers were pulled away from her face. Soft violet-blue waves fell around her, companions to the gentle care-worn eyes that leaned down lovingly. Fingertips touched the puffy flesh at her cheeks, and pressed against her warm forehead coolly. Usagi sighed at the stern, bemused tilt to her mother's mouth, knowing she'd been caught in the act.

"Are you alright? Headache again?" The blond nodded quietly, sniffling back the tears that threatened to rise again. "Did you eat something?" her mother pressed again, fingers tugging through the mass of golden knots. When her daughter didn't answer, a longsuffering sigh escaped her lungs as velvety eyebrows drew together. "Usa-chan…it's dangerous. You need to eat something every few hours. The doctors said…"

"I know, mama." Her tone was harsh, self-mocking as she cut into her mother's patient words. "Trust me, I know." Strong violet eyes bore directly into hers despite any earlier comments, a silent question in them. Usagi didn't have to guess blindly at what she wanted to know. "I can't keep anything down! I don't see the point of eating if I'm just gunna throw it up!"

"Well, that's no excuse to be irresponsible about your health, Usagi-chan. You know how fragile you can be." Frustrated, the older woman lifted herself from the bed and stalked toward the open doorway, completely ignoring that angry glare piercing the back of her skull.

"I am _not_ fragile!"

The pathetic outcry met with silence as the door closed softly once more. Frustrated, the blond slid back into the covers and pretended that whole conversation didn't happen. She had more important things to worry about right now, anyway, and one of them was figuring out what she'd ever done to attract Mamoru's attention as Sailor Moon. At first, she'd been shocked and confused when he came forward. It wasn't like a regular civilian could have known she would be there or would have done anything so…arrogant. Then the mask had come off and explained everything.

Despite the anger at remembering his words then, she felt a wave of relief pass through her. She'd hesitated to change back because she knew the trip home would be awful, but really it had been a saving grace. If he'd watched her de-transform, well, Mamoru wouldn't have bothered her again that was for sure, but even more disturbing was the fact that Tuxedo Kamen wouldn't come to her rescue. Usagi was not so self possessed as her arch rival; she knew she needed him to be there in case things went wrong.

But maybe that was half her problem right there. What if, because she turned him down, he stopped coming?

What if she didn't even want him there?

"Now, I want you to drink _all_ of this, Usagi-chan. Sip slowly, of course, but…well, you know." Both blue eyes shot to her mother's form in the doorway, thoughts still confused and muddled. A small bowl was cupped between each motherly hand, steaming hot in the warm afternoon air. The young girl swallowed thickly, afraid of what it would do to her to drink whatever it was. Knowing her mother, it probably tasted like a cross breed of dog mixed with rat poison…as did all of Ikuko's home remedies. A dark look passed over her young face at the thought, sure her mother did those things just to encourage good attendance records.

To her ultimate relief, the broth smelled like chicken and warmed her sore throat on the way down. It was hard to even sip the offering, knowing she'd probably be bending over the toilet in about five minutes, but she tried her best. As she did so, her mother wandered around the room, picking up stray clothing and setting them in the laundry basket as she went.

"Naru-chan stopped by this morning on her way to the market." Her soft voice filtered through the thickness in Usagi's ears, the tone she always used when filling someone in on a bit of news she'd heard somewhere. A tiny smile broke the edges of her frown, familiarity washing over her. "I would have let her come in except it was around ten and you still weren't awake. Rei-chan and Ami-chan came by about an hour ago, too, but you were in the bathroom…"

The last comment was barely heard as she zoned out. The comforting warmth and weight in her hands was almost hypnotizing, drawing her down into the same pool of thought she'd been drowning in earlier. The girls had come by. She hadn't shown at their precious meeting because of him, and now probably wanted to pump her for information. Rei had called on the communicator the next morning, having seen it on the news, and her tone had been anything but comforting. The priestess had all but yelled at her for going into battle without backup, let alone sick and weak. Well, it wasn't like Usagi expected her friend to have any kind words for her to begin with, but given the circumstances it was a little bit harder to swallow her criticism.

Ami had actually come by the next day to check her over for injuries. Usagi hadn't had the heart to tell her what all had happened, only that she'd jumped in without thinking and Tuxedo Kamen had come to the rescue. Even the genius had looked at her disapprovingly. Even sweet, wonderful Ami had been disappointed in her actions, no matter how brave or well meant they had been.

It was like they both looked down on her, like she couldn't handle anything on her own. But she'd been the first Senshi, had fought without anyone there except Kamen for months before Ami transferred in. Didn't that experience mean anything to the girls? Why did they constantly act like she never did anything right? Was she really so pathetic? Would it really be so awful if she were fighting alone –without even _his_ help?

Could she ever be that strong?

"Mama!" the shrill voice of her younger brother shattered her thoughts, sending pins and needles dancing into her skull. She doubled up, clutching painfully at her head and trying to force breath into her lungs. The pain was horrible, compounded by his fast-pounding footsteps on the stairs.

"Shingo, you're sister is sick! Keep it down!" her mother's hoarse whisper meant nothing against the frantic breathing of the overly excited twelve-year-old. Usagi groaned into her pillow, wishing he would at least turn away from her room before the next outburst. Unfortunately, today was just not her lucky day.

"But the Senshi are on TV! Monsters attacked the downtown market and they're throwin' fireballs and stuff! Come see!"

The second their footsteps pounded down the stairs, a shuddering sob broke free from the huddled figure on the bed. The girls hadn't even called her. Her communicator lay silent on the bedside table, conspicuously still in the afternoon sunlight. Her heart plummeted, knowing how angry they'd been with her for doing the exact same thing. So what was the difference?

What was the difference between her and them? What was the difference between her and Moon? Everyone saw her as weak, _pathetic_. Mamoru would do anything for Moon, but for Usagi? He couldn't even stand to be around her without saying something horrible. And she would just take it, because she was weak. She would just take it.

Foggy blue eyes hardened dangerously toward the empty wall as she thought.

Yeah, she'd take it.

Yes, I know. You're all wondering if I've died and been replaced by one of those review-sucking drabble writers. No worries. I'm still me.

However, I did want to ask all of you to check your email. I've been trying to get back with everyone who's reviewed so far, and I'm sorry to say I haven't gotten everyone yet. But then, I'm also pretty sure none of you use the email you signed on to with. So there, I've said my piece on that.

Also, after this chapter, I'm going to take a bit of a break from writing, so don't expect new chapters for the next few weeks. This one was a bit rushed and I'm honestly grimacing for the quality factor in it. No worries, I'll be back with chapter 4 in no time, and hopefully with better than costco style writing abilities.

Ellourrah


	5. Chapter Four

AN: Ok, kids, this is for everyone who has a lame test in the next few weeks who wants a bit of an escape from anything school related. I understand that this chapter needs a bit of fine tuning, but my editor is in the midst of lame tests…so! Without further verbage on my part, enjoy!

Ellourrah

**Chapter Four**

The air was crisp and cool, a sudden compliment to the oppressive heat wave that had choked the city streets for months. The early morning traffic bustled hastily along; people ambled happily down the sidewalks and paths in response to the sweet release. Trees swayed headily against the gentle nymph-like wind and tiny dewdrops shattered the early morning sunrise to light the walkways in a splattering of confused color. Rustling leaves broke the still morning like a whispering woodwind symphony accented by trilling birdsong from the dancing treetops. The slow-rising sun gave stark contrast against the rigid, unforgiving buildings that broke the Tokyo skyline like jagged teeth.

But all of this went unnoticed to him. His thoughts were elsewhere, per norm, and had been stuck there for weeks now. Since that night, there had been no other attacks on the city's inhabitants, and nothing had been heard from the elusive Heroes that watched from above. The day might as well have been somber and cloudy, for all he cared. Such a silence could have been considered normal, unless one was waiting to get their hands on a certain blond hero for some answers.

It was all he wanted at this point. The questions had been building in the back of his mind long enough to drive any normal man insane, and he was not willing to give up on them. He found himself anxious for the next attack, waiting on pins and needles for the day to arrive when he could hear the sweet scream of utter terror breaking the silence; even though it meant another spike in the growing death toll. The inactivity was making him lose his mind, but it was considered a small sacrifice for the ultimate goal. Glowering cobalt eyes narrowed at the thought. Patience was not a virtue he had given much credit to in the past, however now there was some small inkling of regret for that decision. But it didn't matter how long it took, he was willing to wait. Knowing his luck, it would take another couple of weeks before the Dark Kingdom would strike again.

He paused mid-stride, feeling himself tense on instinct as it came into view. Even the sight was enough to cause a nervous jolt to shiver along his skin and sheen of sweat to break across his forehead. The most dreaded area in the world at exactly 7:53 am, which his schedule strangely forced him to be in at precisely that time every morning, was suddenly before him in all its horrifying glory. He muttered something dark beneath his breath, quickly positioning himself in the path of least probability.

Today could be the break in the sudden absence, and he had no intention of being mowed down simply because he was too distracted to notice a 90 some-odd pound girl rocketing through the streets at mach four and screeching like banshee. Furtively, his head snuck around the corner just long enough to analyze his chances of making it to school unscathed. A quick scan of the area proved his efforts futile as no one was around other than him. That was…weird.

For the past couple of days, Odango hadn't been at 'the corner', and that left him wondering if she was actually getting up on time. He couldn't help the little chuckle that escaped at the thought. Yeah, like that would ever happen. The day that whiny little brat made it to school on time; he'd die of shock, old age, or both.

He shook his head amusedly and slipped around the corner to continue his walk. It was almost like she timed everything, was late on purpose just to run into him. What a ridiculous, typical thing for a young girl to do. It certainly wasn't like she was the only one to do it, either. Seemed every time he turned around some middle-schooler was bumping into him or tripping up against him. Blue eyes rolled heavenward at the thought. If he had a nickel for every ridiculous little kid that had a crush on him, he'd probably have his retirement taken care of. Odango was now just one of the masses, just like every other girl.

It was sad. In the beginning, she'd been such a good distraction. She was too short to be taken seriously, too young to be attractive, and too fiery to give up when put down. It was a fun little game of childish name-calling, and the perfect stress relief from all of those anatomy courses he'd taken. Any time he'd been faced with a test, he'd calmly walked into the arcade for a little relief in the form of purely plutonic bickering. Maybe it was some strange kickback to the childhood he'd never had, but damn it, it was fun!

Or had been. In retrospect (and this was only after Motoki had non-too-gently pointed out the fact over coffee the other day) Odango had not been herself for a while now. Where she'd always been able to shoot absolute hell his way when he first met her, it made her all the more disturbing when compared to the girl he'd seen mere days earlier.

He'd been on his way home from the dry-cleaners, not expecting anything because it was late afternoon and everything was quiet as usual. But her tiny form had come barreling around the corner anyway, and smashed into him with all the force of a train wreck. The impact sent his clean clothes into the gutter and absolutely coated him in fine gold hair that clung to him like sticky fingers. That part, not counting the timing, had been normal; but the look in her eyes, the way she threw herself away from him and scurried off, was not. She hadn't even yelled at him for being in her way, which might have somehow helped the situation return to normal between them. Maybe he was just going crazy, but something about the instance bothered him, and he'd spent more than a few moments brushing the feeling away before he could take a closer look.

She had been a fun kid to talk to.

Well, she was a distraction at least from the other issues in his life –or had been. The thought sent a strange feeling through him… past tense. He rolled his eyes, wasting no time in pushing that feeling away just as he had all the others. Besides, his eyes narrowed in thought, he had other things to worry about anyway, and thinking about that juvenile brat… Odango was not on debate here, the real problem was…

"Chiba-san! Oi!" Stormy blue eyes settled across the newcomer in cool frustration, and he was suddenly considering his escape options while she made her way across the grounds. One glace proved the college campus already surrounded him on every side, and that his feet had carried him nearly to the science building on their own. He mentally shook himself, hoping his little visitor hadn't noticed how out of it he'd been. It wouldn't do to let her, of all people, see him preoccupied. He'd never hear the end of it. Quickly stifling the urge to roll his eyes, he replaced it instead with a welcoming smile.

"Matsumori-san." He nodded respectfully, already watching the short girl for any furtive movements. She stood at perfect attention to him, short form clad in the university regulation uniform in maroon and grey. As senior president of the journalism club, the student before him always had some excuse to come talk to him, which in turn helped her secondary position as acting president of his fan club. Words could not express how much joy that particular bit of knowledge had brought him. When they'd first met, he'd just barely come to this school under pre-med, and she'd been doing a column on most promising new-comers. Though nothing had happened right at first (she was too short, anyway) over the ensuing months she'd proven to be quite tenacious when it came to the things she wanted. He would have had a great deal of respect for that, if that something weren't him.

The farthest it had ever gone between them was a round of flirting over an interview for the biweekly newsletter that circulated the campus about him. He'd been acting much too strangely for a long time before that and the not-so-innocent little college girls had begun to wonder if he was alright. Questions had arisen about certain aspects of his personal life that he'd been forced to confront. It was bad enough having every girl on campus hunt him like a prize deer, but having a few of the guys encouraged by rumors really didn't help anything. Given his usual behavior around the opposite sex, the only reason the questions had been brought up where on allegations that he hadn't seemed too interested. Of course, to any ridiculous busy-body out there, it must mean he was either sick or gay. People assumed things –asinine as that was- and he had no intention of letting it slide by.

Just to drive the point home, he'd complied with her request for a personal interview in which he'd simply credited a change in major and the need to focus on his work for a while. Given the large switch from pre-med to business management, it had a bit of truth behind it, even if it were only partial. He hadn't ever been one to fill up his time with general classes, and had had to focus almost entirely on management courses to make up the difference since. The reason for the change? Well, medicine was interesting enough, but he was an admittedly selfish man, and a few pointers from a local big business owner had given him the direction needed to truly utilize his skills.

Of course, none of it was the real reason he'd been turning down women left and right beginning almost a month earlier. Something had changed in him, something that he couldn't quite put a finger on until that very interview. Matsumori-san had been utterly wicked after the gay question had been put aside, but her cute little jokes and sultry eyes had no effect on him like they would have. His tastes had changed, become completely exclusive to one single woman. As the conversation had progressed, he'd focused more and more on his thoughts of the beautiful Senshi, and had slowly realized that his feelings for her ran far deeper than he'd thought possible before that moment.

It was both exciting and depressing to admit he could not stand the idea of any other woman warming his bed if not Moon herself. Though it took a few more months to grip exactly what that meant for him, considering their rather distant relationship. After plotting and planning all of this time away, he had been absolutely certain of the course to take. It had involved a tiny bit of subterfuge on his part, in hopes of evading the other two Senshi more than anything else, but he'd had every intention of coming out with the truth in time.

One thought back to that night on the rooftops, however, smashed that little daydream to bits and pieces. She'd turned him down flat without even considering it. Of course, there was a reason for everything, and hers would be as good as any for breaking his heart and his nose in one fell swoop. They had spoken at least once as civilians, which meant she could be one of his classmates!

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he held the short brunette up to the legendary warrior and couldn't help but wonder. They were both vertically challenged, but there was no way their body types were even close. The girl before him was border-line straight up and down, hardly any curve to her at all. Her hair was short, cut stylishly to reflect some terrible fashion magazine she'd probably subscribed to from the states. It didn't even stand in the same world as the shimmering windswept cascade crowning Moon's gorgeous little head and swirling down around her lower thighs. No, likelihood that they were one and the same was not terribly high. He focused his eyes on her, hoping she hadn't noticed his mind wandering as she spoke.

"…rumor that you got in a fight with a Jr. High kid. Is it true she actually put you in the emergency room?" All earlier thoughts froze in the wake of her insinuation. Confident brown eyes clashed against shocked blue before his mouth curled into a cruel smile. So that was what she'd been curious about. He should have considered at least the possibility of the club wanting to know what happened to make his face to bruise so badly. Of course, even the idea of little Odango Atama causing such damage was really unheard of. Who in their right mind could even assume that scrawny little brat from the arcade could actually land a punch, let alone shatter his nose bridge?

"Excuse me?" He drawled, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down on her short, stick figure form in contempt. Who would believe such a rumor, let alone have the gall to ask him about it? His mouth tightened angrily as he continued. "That is obvious hearsay, and I'm not even going to bother answering it. If you've got a problem with my broken nose, just come out and say it."

"Well," Matsumori grinned quietly and came forward a few steps till they were quite close and reached out a hand to finger his jacket. "Would you like to tell me the story? I promise to make it sound good in this month's newsletter." Her fingers slid around his lapel, lips pursed in sultry invitation as she tilted her head toward him.

A crawling shudder of revulsion tickled his lower spine and he quickly brushed her hand away in hopes of banishing the strange sensation. He retreated back a few steps, demeanor cold and uncaring as he shifted the pack and narrowed both eyes at her dangerously. It wasn't the first time she'd tried something like this, and he'd been perfectly clear on his part that there was nothing between them. Well, looks like he was just going to have to educate her like he did Odango; maybe then she'd get the picture.

"Look, Matsumori-san, let's be honest here. You've got no figure at all, you're too short and not even that pretty. So stop throwing yourself at me, it's pathetic." Strangely enough, the tiny twinge that had snagged at his chest just a few weeks earlier wasn't there this time. It was natural, an extension of his loathing for her and anyone like her. Pushy, snobby, spoiled little princesses who've never had to do a thing in their life; they had no idea what it was like to fight all the way to the top, to sacrifice. The world would be a better place without every single brainless, spineless little free ride like her. He didn't need them. He didn't want them.

She took an involuntary step backward, frozen words striking out at her like the crack of a whip. Her fingers clutched at nothing before her, head lowering as the horrified blush burned into her face. He felt no shame, though. She'd done nothing but push even when he'd told her he wasn't interested. It had been too much to hope she'd just run off crying, though, because Matsumori wasn't like that. Instead her shoulders straightened and her head lifted to level a dirty glare in his direction.

"I forget sometimes you're such a jerk. I forgive you, though, Chiba-san." He rolled his eyes at the hopelessness of the situation. She still wasn't getting it, was she? Her shifting eyes scanned the area, probably hoping that no one had been close enough to hear his stinging words before she cornered him again. "So what do you go for, Mamoru-san? Men?"

He grimaced, more at the fact that she'd used his first name than the none-too-subtle accusation. There weren't many people he felt that casual around, and she had never been one of them. He shot a cool glare in her direction and turned away. He had no respect for her, and it was obvious that she had none for him, either. Fanaticism only held sway for so long, after that he was just another rack of meat. It was irritating, and he had no intention of adding to the problem by continuing the conversation.

"Oi, Motoki-kun!" he called, relieved to see his familiar platinum blonde head bobbing not far away. A welcoming wave rose in greeting before the lone manager turned in their direction.

"So that's the real story, then? You're gay? Do you mind if I quote you on that last statement, Chiba-san? Which male student would you rather go to the dance with next week…?" The young journalist was going to drive him insane. His jaw tightened painfully as the questions continued to spill from her mouth at an incredible rate. He couldn't move fast enough across the yard, and Motoki couldn't seem to move any quicker than a convulsing snail. It was just as they finally met halfway that Mamoru could take no more of the ridiculous questions and high-pitched, squeaking voice. He turned, stopping short and causing her to crash into his chest haphazardly as his answer sliced through the endless torrent.

"Sailor Moon, if you must know." Both Motoki and Matsumori froze the second her name slipped past his mouth. In the same instant, he wondered if admitting such a thing had been a fatal mistake to his alter ego. Blond glanced at brunette unsurely as the moment stretched on in awkward silence. Admitting he had a crush on her would explain why he hadn't been able to see anyone else for months now. The problem was that if he ever did talk her into dating him, she'd be pegged as the city's heroine and lose her anonymity. Instead of risking the idea that his intentions might be taken seriously, he grinned in a boyish, offhand manner and continued. "Well, think about it. She's hot, got great breasts, long blond hair and she spends her nights kicking the shit out of demons. I'd go for that."

"Whoa, Mamoru-kun," Motoki warned, suddenly very serious though he had no context behind the statements. That strangely protective glint had returned to his impish green eyes and he seemed to tense the slightest bit. Mamoru zeroed in on the reaction instantly, wondering why his friend was suddenly so defensive. "Don't talk about Sailor Moon like that; she is more than a body."

He felt low just saying something so completely superficial about her, but being known as the campus playboy gave him a little bit more creative license. In all honestly, he really was madly in love with her, admired her in ways he couldn't even describe to them. But how would one explain her girlish laugh, or how her tears made his soul shiver without giving away too much? Besides, no one took his romantic interests seriously. Everyone knew he was just looking for a good time, and therefore his comments were perfectly in character.

It was this thought that made him wonder if he was Chiba Mamoru, or Tuxedo Kamen. One was a shallow womanizer, and the other… he shook himself inwardly and continued on the tirade, pretending he didn't feel anything more significant about her than blind lust.

"Tell me about it, the girl's about as mysterious as Santa Clause, doesn't hang around for any awkward social pause and is more likely to break your nose than go out with you." He chuckled at his own joke, but missed the fact that no one else was joining in.

"God is _that_ what happened to your face?" He glanced over at her shocked tone, suddenly realizing exactly what he'd insinuated without even thinking about it. He stifled the urge to curse fluently and scoffed.

"Of course not! Her creepy cape-guy would kick my ass for trying." The forced boyish grin melted beneath honest amusement at the picture of his alter ego knocking him senseless. Maybe no one else understood the joke, but to him it was mildly amusing at least. "What's his name? Stalker Kamen?" Motoki especially was chuckling, now that the topic had veered from Moon and onto someone he could poke fun of without guilt. "I don't pay attention to the male side of things, especially when there happens to be one of those sweet little Senshi girls conveniently floating around."

"Dude, Mars is hot." All three turned suddenly, aware that others had been listening to the conversation with avid interest. The one who'd spoken was grinning dumbly, shaggy brown hair falling into his eyes. Sensing the quick escape from the real focus of the conversation, Mamoru grinned encouragingly and bumped Motoki to do the same.

"No way, Mercury's the one to go for. You know what they say about the quiet ones." The other guy broke in, adjusting frameless glasses. He looked like someone you might find on the cover of a computer magazine modeling wires and motherboards with short brown hair and his jacket hanging over one shoulder.

"Figures you'd would go for a chick with blue hair." Shaggy boy shot back, rolling his eyes. The other three had been completely silent up to this point, all wondering how the geek and the rocker had somehow ended up walking across the yard together. Random, he'd be the first to admit, but definitely ok at this point. Mamoru was just glad that no one had gone back to the original question, especially since Matsumori-san was still standing beside them.

"So what you're all saying is to get a date with Chiba-san, I'd have to be a Senshi?" The thought must have triggered that mouth again, because she stepped forward with predatory eyes, glaring around the group as if asking the greatest question in all of journalism history.

Horrified gasps broke out on all sides as that one terrible question fell from her tiny mouth. Every male was staring in hardened disapproval at the short, stick figure form before them and, creepily enough, trying to picture her in a sexy fuku. Mamoru shuddered, reaching up to rub his painful eyes at the thought. It'd be like wrapping skintight white fabric over a cereal box…

"Oh God please don't!" The rocker was also holding hands over his eyes, trying to block out the visual as his things clattered to the grass below. One could hear his buddy whispering 'sacrilege' under his breath and glaring heatedly at the girl who dared rip away his fantasies. Shaggy let his hands drop from his eyes long enough to grip her shoulders and in a shaky voice, begin again in slow words, almost as if he were talking to a child. "You couldn't fill out a fuku worth anything, Matsumori-san. Half the sex appeal would be gone."

"More like three quarters. What size are you anyway?" Glasses, Mamoru decided, was the meaner of the two. But not by much.

"Guys, come on. That's not very nice." Motoki stepped forward, tone firm and angry as he glared the other two down. Blue eyes rolled heavenward as the furiously blushing girl took off running toward the science building behind them. The blond could be such a knight in shining armor sometimes. Not that the dark man was really against that sort of thing, but there was a certain kind of girl you did that kind of stuff for. She was not one of them. "Mamoru-kun, I thought you were better than that."

"What, I didn't even say it! Besides, it's true." He shrugged, tired of the conversation already. Now that all imminent danger of being taken seriously had been tossed out the window, he turned to regard the two who had unknowingly saved him. Rocker was grinning at Glasses viciously and both were pounding fists at the victory. Once they noticed the upperclassmen, however, the shaggy one gripped the back of his head awkwardly.

"Sorry, guys. We overheard the conversation and thought you might need a bit of help." Glasses nodded as well, crossing his arms and turning away.

"More like we just hate her."

At the two blank stares, it was obvious they'd overstayed their welcome.

"Well, carry on!" One grabbed the other and suddenly Mamoru was quite alone and facing the disapproving glare of his best friend to boot. This day just kept getting better and better.

"So, is that what happened? You asked Moon out?" Motoki's glare only got more penetrating as the other man shrugged indifferently. But it was a useless gesture, and they both knew it. Motoki could always read him better than most, and at times like this it was hard to admit it was a good thing. "That explains a few things. Jeez."

Mamoru was left puzzling that last statement over as his friend quickly stepped over to the benches running along the path. They'd been friends since grade school, had shared a lot of things together since then, and had even ended up at the same university through some random twist of fate. It wasn't like they knew everything about each other, but sometimes it felt close. And just now, Motoki'd hit a sore spot. It was almost as if his buddy had somehow known Mamoru would do something stupid like go after a Senshi.

It wasn't like it would change anything between them in the long run; they'd always disagreed when it came to girls. The blond was your run-of-the-mill gentleman or knight in shining armor as the situation called for. Of course, his parents had been adamant on teaching him things like that. Mamoru, on the other hand, had never had the luxury of caring parents; his teachers had been older homeless kids, sleazy bosses, and after signing as a model, other models. Not exactly the best places to learn etiquette, he'd wager.

"And what exactly does that explain?" he shot back hotly, following close on his friend's heels to the bench. A few quick strides and he was settling himself down next to the oddly serious blond. The heavy shoulder pack shifted downward, hitting the ground with a soft thud. Early in the day and already his back was killing him. That dumb bag had to weigh at least a hundred pounds, he was sure of it. His homework had largely been left undone in the past few weeks, something he was going to pay for soon enough.

"Well, for one thing," Motoki glanced up at him before pulling out his biology text and turning his attention to the chapter heading, "you've been avoiding women at all costs and I catch you staring off into lala-land over your coffee instead of studying. Now, you've never turned down a decent looking girl in your life until late last year randomly, _and_ it looks like you've got a couple weeks worth of homework molding in the bottom of you backpack. How was I not going to guess that something's been up?"

Wow, when put in so many words, he really had been obvious about it. No wonder Motoki'd been trying to set him up so much lately! Well, he could admit he'd been acting a bit strange, but for the usually bubbly arcade manager to be so serious over a crush…wait, that shouldn't be happening, should it? His eyes narrowed again, head tilting back curiously as he stretched the aching muscles in his back

"What do you care, man? She's a Senshi, it's not like it's ever going to happen." Glowering green eyes glanced up from the book, forgetting the fact that he should have been studying rather than having this conversation.

"Don't give me that crap, Mamoru. You just talked her up like she was some kinky porn star _and_ already asked her out. What did you think she'd do, fall into your arms?"

_God_, that stung! His first pain-filled thought was how true it was, but he wasn't about to just back down. Years in a loveless orphanage had taught him all too well how to lash out in kind. Motoki was not the kind of guy to get all irritated over nothing, and whatever it was the other guy was hiding really angered him. The blond always had everything in the open. He always spread the gossip around, goofed off like a loon and talked like nothing in the world ever got him down. Motoki didn't have secrets, _Motoki_ didn't have problems. Mamoru did. So what in the hell did he have to be angry about?

"Why are you suddenly so protective of someone you don't even know?" He asked quietly, the rage boiling through him suddenly making him painfully calm. But spontaneous Motoki nearly threw his books down in agitation and spun around to peer directly the cool gaze.

"Why do you have no respect for someone who sacrifices her _life_ to protect everyone? She's saved me a couple of times now and it pisses me off hardcore to hear you talk about her like that! Show some respect, will ya?"

As the two stared each other down, it was the first time ever that Mamoru couldn't really fight back with a witty retort. He bit his lip to keep the rage from boiling over, noting that Motoki had done the same. They'd never fought like this before. Sure, Mamoru could be a cold, distant bastard, but Motoki had always forgiven him for it. To be fighting over someone he didn't really know –and his friend even less- that was too much. He had already regretted the brash decision to talk about Moon as if she were nothing more than a body, but damn it! To have his very best friend talk to him as if he were nothing more than some chauvinist…

Which he was.

The thought forced his eyes down to the backpack at his feet, and brought up the question he'd found himself asking before. Who was he, anyway? Some shallow playboy incapable of having a healthy relationship with a girl; or was he Tuxedo Kamen, who risked his life for the woman he loved without thinking twice? When had it all become so complicated anyway? And how many times had he thought of her as just that? A body?

He swallowed thickly, reaching up to brush fingers along his still bruising nose bridge. Given the fact that she knew him in civilian form, she must see him as the same. No wonder she'd turned him down flat. He had just had to push his luck and be the expectant one. She, on the other hand, had just been trying to save herself. And here, he'd been blaming things like PMS, thinking she didn't have the right to be angry at him. He should have looked a little more through her eyes. He should have cared.

"Though I think I woulda paid good money to watch that happen." Motoki broke through his thoughts amusedly, drawing his attention back to the present. Tiny little sparks of pain shot straight into his skull every time he touched it, but he couldn't help it. Besides, this little wound was nothing compared to what he was feeling right then –what she must be feeling like. "By a girl, no less. That's just priceless."

"By a Senshi, ok? Not just any girl." One glance in the blonde's direction showed a mischievous grin lighting the corners of his mouth, his eyes lost in thought. Mamoru rolled his own and tried to hide his answering smile. It was a funny thought, really. She probably weighed less than a hundred pounds, but damn could she land a good one when provoked. He was suddenly glad his friend didn't know about his alter-ego, or that _really_ would have ruined his image!

"Ya, what is she? 6 years younger than you?" The blond shot back, wiping absentmindedly at his book before focusing on the words.

"Where did you get that?" Mamoru's eyebrows drew together in shock. There was no way that girl could possibly be that young! Not only would it be perfectly illegal for a child like that to rock a mini-skirt like she could, but that would mean a kid just shattered his nose bridge!

"Uh…just a guess, really. She does look really young." Motoki waved away the question distractedly, hardly glancing up from the pages before him before checking his watch quickly. Mamoru nodded finally, watching his friend for a moment. A comment like that, with an odd number like 6…what was he playing at?

"No way. 6 years would put her in middle school. Too young to have to fight." He turned to his backpack again, quickly unzipping the top to rummage around inside for his homework. Class would start soon, and it was the one piece he had bothered with over the weekend.

"She'd be Usagi's age. And we all know she's a bit of a spitfire." The statement was made in an offhand manner, one that didn't really catch Mamoru completely aware as he searched. Maybe it was the fact that he was so terribly distracted, but had he glanced over then, Motoki's impish grin would have scared him.

"Please, Odango-brain couldn't hurt a fly even if she wanted to. Besides, isn't she like twelve?" Mamoru muttered distractedly, still rummaging around in his pack. He could have sworn he put his finance homework in the black binder, but maybe it was the blue one?

"Actually, she seems much more violent when you're around. And she's fifteen."

A piercing wail broke through the soft morning chirps, sending Mamoru flying to his feet and papers falling to the ground around him. Motoki's jaw dropped in confusion and awe at the strangely defensive stance his best friend was taking. A second later, the wail came again, this time accompanied by a shot of golden blond hair and billowing blue skirt as the girl in question swung around the corner and shot off toward school.

"Oh, Usagi-chan. What are we going to do with you? She's been spending way too much time with that priestess, if you ask me. I don't know if she's helping Usagi-chan out or not." Motoki stated quietly, a soft smile playing on his mouth. Mamoru rolled his eyes in frustration and knelt down to pick up the mess of papers lying haphazardly across the sidewalk. God, of all the things it could have been –it just had to be that crybaby wailing about school! And here, he'd been hoping for so much more…

Mamoru grunted in frustration, obviously more worried about picking up the rest of his homework than wondering why Odango was running to school from the opposite direction than usual. It should have been a Youma attack! It should have been the signal he'd been waiting for weeks to get! His eyes lit up triumphantly at the sight of his paper lying innocently on the grass not three feet from him. He hadn't done a whole lot of homework lately, but at least he finished that one assignment without too many problems. It didn't matter; his GPA was high enough that a few missed assignments wouldn't touch him.

He settled himself back into the bench confusedly, realizing there had been no rhyme or rhythm to his thoughts a moment ago. Tired hands reached up to rub against his eyes as he thought. Why had his train of thought gone off course again? The paper…right, the paper. He focused on the sheet in question, barely listening to his buddy as he went over the calculations for the fourth time. It was only when the blond continued to press the conversation about Usagi's age that he stated his opinion at last.

"Who cares? She's just a kid, Motoki; you worry about her too much." And with that said, he focused again on number 11, wishing he'd taken the time to find his calculator during all that rummaging around. Damn it, he was tired! He didn't want to worry about ridiculous things like homework and equations and finances! He wanted to see Moon! Well, and he wanted a nap. Strange dreams had kept him up again, filled with things he shouldn't know…

"Fifteen, Mamoru. She's older than you think and you were nothing but an ass to her the other day. It's a good thing she's so strong or you could have crushed her confidence forever."

He bent, thinking back to the crushed, mouse-like look she'd given him at the corner that day…then shrugged as the calculator was yanked free. She'd knocked him flat on his butt without as much as an apology! That alone was grounds to irritate the hell out of the girl, guilt free.

"Whatever, she'll get over it. She's a tough kid." Not to mention the fact that his most favorite green jacket had ended up in the gutter with the rest of his dry cleaning. Of all the things she could have muddied, it just had to be that! Did she not realize that it was the only article of clothing so hideous it could actually cause the fan club to keep at least 5 feet further from his person in sheer panic?

"Fifteen, Mamoru. Not a kid."

But Motoki's words were lost to him as he turned back to his homework.


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

The world burst into a spectacular show of color and light, a sense of weightlessness lifting the normally stationary ground out from below her. Pain erupted from the side of her face, quickly followed by scraped knees and bloody palms as she collapsed into the rocky earth below. A heady sense of nausea rippled through her stomach, aided by the strange fog suddenly covering her vision like a broken kaleidoscope. The fresh smell of tonight's drizzle faded behind the stench of coppery blood. The side of her face throbbed and screamed as she forced herself to breathe again, hoping her stomach would stand still long enough for her to catch a second wind.

She blinked, once, twice; the world washed grey and blue for a moment before the yellow rocks below her finally began to take shape. Dribbled innocently across the ground below lay a small spatter of red, the obvious evidence a newly split lip. Heaving a second breath and forcing her head to turn toward the others, she noted almost listlessly that they were rushing toward her. Their mouths were moving, but for some reason, she couldn't hear a thing other than the ringing in her ears.

Well, so much for afterschool training sessions. Maybe she should have transformed after all…Her mind suddenly went blank, her chest freezing over as if the devil himself had ripped her heart free. She gasped in shock, not ready for what was about to happen. But by then, her body had crashed into the earth below, sending tiny pebbles scraping along her face and body as she did. The pain was miniscule; hardly worth noting as the fog grew thickly across her eyes.

The sensation of soft paws against her eyelids felt feverish, the sounds became jumbled and unclear as the world finally slipped away from her.

Mist hung thickly across the vine-choked grounds, the air dense even in the bitter cold. Massive trees speared toward the heavens in a senseless, wild tangle of limbs and claw-like branches. The broken, uneven ground dipped and rose with all the eccentricity such a place could boast, often concealing its twisted, and writhing paths in shadow till nothing could be judged safe. Hollow, creeping sounds skittered across the interwoven expanse of nature's chaos, and quickly sent a shiver racing across the skin. Turbulent nerves coiled in agony at the eerie scene, accenting the preternatural composure of the small, backwoods temple hidden away beneath the hills.

It was ancient, the age-worn structure filled with mist from the burdening night. Across its ivory stone pillars lay a thick coating of moss and plant life, winding their way upwards toward the chilling sky. It was cool, enough to be slightly uncomfortable should a breeze flit past, and the air hung low with a sallow, musty stench. The frightening aura was augmented by the sounds of forest animals rustling through the underbrush, the soft hooting of the Terran owls, and the distant flap of leathery wings.

Had it been any other circumstance, Serenity would have been terrified in such a lonely, abandoned place so far from any known civilization. But with a strong arm wrapped closely around her, and the comforting feel of his steady breathing to break the heavy atmosphere, she was content. Her long fingers tangled in the mid-weight cloak wrapped around his broad shoulders to ward off the cold. Her feet tangled helplessly in the uneven ground, heavy dress burdened by branches and vines as they passed. On more than one occasion, she was sure the hem of the thick, intricate ivory-colored gown had been ripped during the excursion, but the thrill humming through her veins was enough to dispel any care she might have felt for it.

It was their last night. Though the thought brought an intense jolt of sorrow burning in her chest, she fought back the tears enough to enjoy it. Her handsome prince had declared war on the Gods in taking her from her quarters, something she had thought even he would hesitate to do. Yet here they were, off to meet some unknown person for a secret wedding hidden within the shadows of the forest. She could only hope her mother had not yet noticed her disappearance and gone to search for her. The Queen had not been pleased in the slightest at the news of her daughter's betrayal, and since had been easily angered over the matter.

Endymion stilled, and with him, her shifting thoughts. A solitary figure stood among the broken pillars, black robe folding garnet in the bitter moonlight. The omnipresent mist coiled and furled across her form, creating a scene easily mistaken for supernatural. Within the darkening night, the figure appeared ghostlike and terrifying. The face was hidden in shadow, eyes lost in the darkened pit of cowl pulled about the head. Within one disturbingly pale hand, a large staff held steady against the quickly rising gust that threatened the weaving branches. The air felt suddenly cold, the moment frozen in time as Endymion's sure hand at her back pushed her forward.

The Lunarian beauty had been born and raised surrounded by the Gods, and therefore easily sensed the figure's well concealed power. She –for it was definitely a she- beckoned the two closer, pale fingers crooking in the half light. The uneven ground was touched here and there by jutting marble and rotting wood, making the journey across a long and difficult one with the added bonus of Earth's gravity. Though her steps were unsteady, in time the figure stood before them with hand outstretched. Serenity forced herself to remain perfectly calm and poised, though inside her body was shaking terribly in fear and hope. In a vain attempt to calm herself more readily, she reached out to this new figure, testing the boundaries of her power as only one Goddess could to another.

Her surprise could not be more complete at what she felt, though. The woman's aura was ancient, tinged with time and deeply set sorrow. The dark garnet folds of her cloak seemed aged, though still beautiful. The strange woman was an antique of sorts, a hidden treasure as yet unknown to the world of mortals. A wry smile tickled the corner of the Moon Goddess's mind, but she did not act on it. This was a sense she had not experienced for herself, though stories were enough to confirm their visitor's identity.

"Lady Setsuna," Serenity bowed softly, humbled that the daughter of Chronos had graced them this last evening. It would make perfect sense for her to be the officer; so far as she knew the other Gods would have nothing to do with them. The sudden question of this particular Goddess's motives came and went without further explanation or thought. Chronos must have sent His daughter here for a specific reason; and though Serenity herself had no clue as to why such was the case, she accepted the honor gratefully. The Others had not been terribly kind once news of the affair had leaked out through her Inner Guard, and so this meeting was to be kept secret for as long as possible.

Should the moment be discovered by the Immortals, it would serve far better than any cry to battle. It was hours away even now, no matter her greatly she wished otherwise. With every halting second that passed, the opposing armies neared the ill-fated battle grounds. It broke her heart to think that soon, all of this world would be lost. Her hand tightened around his softly, knowing the greater pain was the thought of losing him. A million lives were not so important if he was to be lost in exchange. It was selfish, just like this wedding, but she would make the decision time and time again if it meant she could have him.

The cloaked figure bowed likewise, turning to her prince and following suit. The pale white gloves on her hands glowed faintly as the cloak opened wide to reveal her battle attire. Serenity had never known the ancient woman to be of the same following as her guardians, yet the black and red fuku clearly spoke otherwise. Often, she had wondered if the daughter of the outmost planet joined ranks with those of Uranus, Neptune, and Saturn in defending the far borders from intrusion.

A soft smile did break free now, for such a ridiculous thought at a time like this. Dear, she was beginning to become quite flighty and the ceremony had not even begun. This did not speak well for the short honeymoon to follow.

There were no introductions, no fancy speeches as Serenity had often imagined at her wedding. The Gods loved to hear themselves speak, and did so even when there was no occasion. But the words coming from Lady Setsuna were not of any language the princess had ever heard before; it was not a tongue of this era. The whispering, haunting, melodic language floated around them, filled the short space between them, bound them together with a nearly tangible thread. The meaning of the words had long since been lost to the pages of history, but it did not stop her from wondering at such a ceremony now. Would not some simple passing of a cup work as well, as it had at the wedding of Eros and Psyche?

When her low, soft voice began to rise, reaching a piqued climax, she slowed and paused, cowl falling back from her head as her eyes lifted toward the heavens. Sharp, glittering black eyes burned against them; the color of her skin not unlike a dark shadow in high contrast to the stark white of her attire. The striking combination, along with the bell-like floating words that lingered, left her breathless and lost in anticipation.

"The Token?"

He called this one the secret wedding. The way the princess stood beside him, and the quiet manner in which everything was conducted seemed to present such a case. The silent woman at his side was perfectly still, her hand soft and confident in his. The vision was set in a dark forest, surrounded by crumbling pillars of what appeared to be an ancient Greek temple. The officer was always cloaked and hooded, and the question she asked seemed to echo into the silent night.

The Token was a small white thing, a plant that he felt strangely sure held some sort of deep significance, though he had no idea what it was. As much as he tried to focus on the object through the indefinite haze, it was taken much too quickly by his companion. She was smiling, fingering the item in pleasure and curiosity. It signaled the familiar end of the dream as her face turned upward with a suggestive tilt. But it was not a kiss he saw, nor did he want to.

His body shuddered helplessly as the frigid grip loosened inch by inch, allowing him to breathe once more. His blood was pounding heavily in his ears, racing through his veins as he sucked in deep breaths over and over. Every muscle relaxed slowly, painfully reminding him of how long they'd stood on end throughout the vision. It was a point that bothered him immensely, he could never figure out if these images were memories, or him standing in the place of another person entirely.

If they were memories, they wouldn't make him seize up like they did unless something else was going on; and if they were visions of another person, he'd just be pissed. The only other option outside of those two was that he was finally losing his mind and hallucinating the whole thing. Considering the fact that that would mean Moon herself was also an illusion, the idea didn't exactly induce ecstasy.

One thing resounded loud and clear, however; that the Moon Princess was staking her claim on him with every intimate little scene. They'd had hot make-out sessions, dirty joke contests, and a wild romp through some meadow. They always, always felt like a secret, as if they were hiding from someone. With every dream, she seemed to beg soundlessly for the Silver Crystal; even though their actions had nothing to do with the mystical gem, it left him burning to find it. Never once had she even whispered the name of it, but he'd always known what she wanted, what she needed.

This…Ginzuishou: the name seemed to be some sort of innate knowledge, and he was sure that it was the reason he could transform into Tuxedo Kamen. It was this fact alone that kept him from rebelling. At least he could see Moon every time he went out in search of it, instead of simply acting on command of some imaginary being. She held no real sway over him, except to search for the gem. Each vision would signal a battle soon, and was exactly what he'd been looking forward to for weeks now. He was waiting, eager to start already. All he needed was the signal from his hot little warrior, and he'd be racing out the window in a heartbeat.

Yes, the Crystal was all that the Princess needed; and so he was willing to find it for her. This…disturbing claim of ownership over him, however, was not something he was willing to negotiate. He had no intention of doing more than finding the magical object, if only to get her highness off his back and let him focus on more interesting things. The Moon Princess could pine away in her ghostly prison in the back of his mind, so long as the Senshi ended up in his arms.

Well, however high up her station was, he had a few words to say about it all. He didn't enjoy being used as a puppet, no matter how encouraging the companions were. He also didn't like having his days so rudely interrupted every time she dug her nails into his chest and sent visions spinning through his head. This most recent one was only a single snapshot in many that had kept him up at night, and nearly cost him his job a few times. The princess had to be conceited in the worst way to think these things were a temptation in the slightest.

After all, Mamoru did not consider himself a fickle man; for years he'd lived his life one single conquest at a time. Once realizing said amusement wasn't what he wanted, he'd moved on. In a way, he was grateful to her Highness for pointing out his obvious match so nicely. He'd be a moron to think even for a second that he and Moon wouldn't be perfect for each other. Even the popular news had hinted at their chemistry more than once, and he was fairly sure the pairing had its own small following among his classmates.

So what was it that drew him to Moon and not to this ghost of a princess anyway? Well, for one thing, if Moon decided to stick her cute little hands in his chest, at least she had the decency to follow through with an appearance! That fact alone completely obliterated whatever irritation he might have felt for it. Not to mention that every time he watched Moon jump headlong into battle, it made his blood sing with an acute mixture of pride and arousal. The princess probably hadn't worked a day in her life, if the feel of her overly-pampered hands had anything to say about it.

Mamoru liked his women a little more passionate, more robust and ready for action.

And if the icy-cold grip suddenly tearing at his heart was any indication, he'd be seeing it firsthand _very_ soon.

Warm rain splashed haphazardly across the stone face of the courthouse, drenching the pillars and stairs in a sheet of highly reflective water. Streetlights danced in the constant patter on the ground, like a million fireflies swarming round and around each other forever. The fresh scent of the storm lay thickly in the air around them, pushing the uncomfortable humidity straight into their lungs. It was warm out, at least. If there were only one consolation for a late-night fight, this would be the one Moon herself would choose.

He had no idea how he knew that. What he did know, however, was that his cloak was abominably heavy when soaking wet. He suppressed an irritated grimace as his feet shifted uneasily. At least the ridiculous top hat kept most of the rain out of his eyes as he watched their progress from a few hundred feet away. He didn't have a whole lot of power, unlike the other Senshi, so each attack had to be well timed to be the most effective. Twenty minutes into the fight, and he still had yet to hit anything. Moon was staying fairly well out of range of the thing, and the other two seemed to be distracting the monster as much as possible without drawing attention to the short blonde. This, he had to admit, was a new song and dance.

"Fire soul!" the red Senshi burst into flaming glory more than a hundred feet to his right, attack sizzling through the downpour to crash heavily into the youma. This signaled Moon's first move of the night as she dove forward with fists swinging. At this, he couldn't help but smile a little knowingly. She was short and probably weighed less than a hundred pounds, but he definitely did not want to be on the receiving end of that punch.

"Shabon spray!" Mercury's ethereal voice drifted into the open, quickly coating the large stairwell in impenetrable mist. The last thing Kamen managed to make out was Moon slamming an uppercut into the reeling monster's face –then, all was mist and shadows.

The stifled curse barely broke free before he was moving. His feet pounded along the pavement, blood rushing painfully loud in his ears and breath coming in short gasps. The sudden tug at his chest was enough to send him diving headlong through the mists to scoop up her prone form. The ground rumbled ominously, emanating from the space she'd previously occupied. Had he not moved when he did…shit! He rolled to his feet, grateful the girl hardly weighed a thing as he did. Each pounding step from behind brought that thing closer, and he had to get to safety long enough to see if she was alright.

The grounds lit an angry red color, bleeding through the mist as the footsteps receded from behind them. He took the offered moment to duck behind a nearby pillar and catch his breath. It was times like these he wished he had better attacks, or power he could use more often. At least then, he'd be a little more help to the Senshi, instead of ducking in and out of the fight like a coward.

"You ok?" He called a moment later, carefully setting the small girl down. She nodded; her face pale but steady, and quickly pushed him away. He sighed agitatedly as she stepped back and rushed headlong into the fight. The sudden loss of warmth left a palpable feeling of regret burning through him, which he quickly ignored. They were in the middle of a fight, and now was not the time to be worried about whether or not she was purposely ignoring him.

Something about the lines of her body, partially hidden by mist…

She burst out with new strength, firing the tiara with painful accuracy as the monster leapt in for the kill on Mars. Moon raced after the burning object, moving much more quickly than she had before to shove the fire Senshi out of the way. A growl boomed through the quickly dissipating mist, accented by the soft, drizzling patter of rain and wind. Mars' angry shriek was lost beneath all the noise, but Kamen was already moving to their rescue.

He didn't bother to see where Mercury had gotten off to, instead his arms outstretched to charge his one attack. He quickly aimed, forcing the energy to compound into his hand, and fired. The monster's scream mixed with the explosion rocketing through its left leg. Green liquid spurt in every direction, the ground rumbled at the giant mass suddenly crashing down, and then all was silent.

He didn't have time to think as the area exploded in red, the fire from Mars' attack reflecting and bouncing through the paltry haze till nothing could be seen because of it. He wasn't fast enough to hide behind the cloak, and was so blinded by the light burning into his eyes that by the time they cleared, so had the mist. The monster was still smoking, lying draped across the stone stairs of the courthouse with two less limbs than it had had previously. From both stumps leaked a strange green liquid he was fairly sure passed for blood wherever this thing was from. The clean cut on the right arm clearly marked Moon's specific touch, where the battered mulch of the leg marked his. He couldn't help but wonder if there was some sort of symbolism in that.

"Twilight flash!" Her familiar voice rang clear as a bell before the purplish-pink light of her attack burst through the rain. A fine sheen of ash was left mixing in the rainwater as it slid and slung down the stairs and into the empty street. Now that the youma was out of the way, he breathed a quick sigh of relief and glanced around curiously. Mercury was hefting herself up from the ground not far from the others, Mars was leaning against her knees tiredly, and Moon…was grinning like mental patient.

A faint chuckle broke free at the look on her face as she turned to the other two. What an odd girl she was. The fight had been fairly routine. Now was the time when they would jibber and talk about everything that happened, and he would slip off into the night. Well, he amended, that was about to be another irregularity in a string of many. He had no intention of disappearing. His gaze fell on the currently celebrating leader of the Senshi and couldn't help the wistful smile at the sight of her jumping up and down excitedly and laughing at to the other two.

She didn't seem ready to leave yet, and for that he was grateful. The Smoking Bomber took a lot out of him, and he needed a moment to catch his breath before asking to speak with her. He spent the time watching her, not something he did very often due to certain regulations he had felt were in place. Instead, he found himself strangely fixated on her twirling, laughing form as she spun through the rain in dizzy abandon. One glance at the others proved that they were also amusing themselves at the childish display, Mercury smiling along quietly and Mars with folded arms.

Moon's ringing laughter tinkled like wind chimes through the steady noise of falling raindrops, and could make anyone smile in response to it. She was so…innocent; in spite of all the horror she'd seen for over a year and a half, she could still act like a juvenile child directly after defeating something from a nightmare. For one small, unbelievable moment, Kamen found himself completely entranced by her, feeling as though she were something not quite human. Was it possible to see the things they did and still find that much joy in a little thing like rain?

After a childhood like his, there had never been a questioning thought on the matter. Joy and happiness were foreign words usually found in books and poems, not in real life. Life did not hand out free love, or free anything for that matter. It was hard and cold, something to live through and endure with as little personal sacrifice and pain as possible. It was not something that should be wasted on the superfluous. It was not something that should be spent without a goal in mind. So, that begged the question, what was the point of spinning through the rain like a loon?

For the second time that night, he found himself on the brink of something that could not be put into words. It was something as strange and alien as his thoughts of happiness –something he could see and understand on a logical basis, but could not in fact touch or taste or feel. Like the outsider looking through the glass at a conundrum, it was too complex for even his mind to work out. And he did not like the feeling, nor did he want to spend all night pondering something so worthless.

He pushed himself away from the pillar as the other two Senshi wrapped companionable arms around their leader and began to pull her toward the street beneath cute little squeals of protest. He had already chosen his words before hand, but it didn't squelch the immediate need to push the other two free of her and let her frolic as long as she liked in the downpour. So long as she laughed, so long as she smiled and made his knees go weak with desire…

"Oi, Moon." He called, just loud enough to freeze her mid-step. The other two paused as well, all three faces turning in astonishment to stare at him. There was a tiny shiver of self-awareness crawling up his spine, and he wondered faintly if it had been the best idea to corner her while the other two were still around. The whole point of asking her out in civilian form had been to avoid them entirely. He cleared his throat authoritatively, pushing away the awkwardness of the moment, and ignored the other two. "Don't go running off just yet, I've got some questions I want answered first."

The wind swept her hair back toward him, driving the sharp, stinging rain directly into his mask and face and blinding him momentarily with a watery sheet. It was enough to miss the awkward shock carving lines into her otherwise smooth face. He carefully wiped the mask clean and peered meaningfully at her, willing her to understand that he was not just going to disappear, and neither would his intentions.

Slowly, as if in defeat, her arms dropped from the shoulders of the surrounding Senshi.

There was no time to waste on the other two. Now that the fight was over, he'd hardly even noticed their presence as he came forward to grip her hand carefully. She was limp and cold; her eyes stared blankly at the ground before her in abject misery. The rain continued to fall around them as he stepped closer, willing her to meet his eyes. She seemed so lifeless…so utterly devoid of human emotion or light. It was a stark contrast to how she'd acted only moments prior. The sight sent a cool shiver down his spine as he bent, quickly pulled the cape around her shoulders and leapt off into the mist-shrouded darkness.

It stung against his face; the tiny, pounding missiles that rained down from the murky heavens in a warm torrent that raced across the exposed skin and drug balefully at the heavy cloak. Yet he fought through it, carefully holding his prize as if she were a fragile trinket in a world constructed entirely of pain and remorse and fear. The warm rain washed away these things in part, cleansing the hot August summer in preparation for the coming cold. Soon now, it would be his favorite time of the year, when life slowly drained its gaudy, brilliant colors in exchange for the softer, cooler tones he had always admired and preferred.

It wasn't his birthday anymore, but that didn't quell the subtle smile playing on his lip. Enjoying her in the fall would be just as sweet. He wondered if someday soon, after this whole misunderstanding had blown over, she might like a little romp in his favorite spot: a meadow lost deep within the embracing arms of the national forest. It would soon be the most beautiful time of year there, when the grounds were speckled golden and red, and the dying sun burned through the still-burdened trees. Her hair would mingle with the leaves that would fall around them; her eyes catch the dying sunlight as they always had before. Her pleasured shrieks would fill the forest around them, mingled with playful wind-song and the rustle of disturbed plants as they had their fill of each other

Hell yes. He grinned thoughtfully, tightening his hold around her as they sailed across an especially wide gap between buildings. By autumn, then. They'd have this little chat, clear up any misunderstandings and be happily on their way before the clock struck midnight. Well, maybe twelve thirty, he conceded, because of the whole broken nose business.

By the time he'd finally pulled himself out of his stupor, the rain had begun to dwindle to a soft patter. The moon peeked out from behind the bruising clouds mischievously, mixing her silvery light with the dim, sallow streetlamps below. His eyes scanned the shifting mists, certain they were getting close to the area he'd planned on taking her. The courthouse wasn't terribly romantic, and the rooftops just weren't as safe as he'd thought before. He grinned, both at the sight of his destination and the feel of her stiffly shifting in his arms.

"Just a minute." He murmured to her quietly before taking to the skies again. It only took a couple more jumps before they descended again to street level. Luckily no one hung around this place longer than absolutely necessary –it was why he'd been so deliberate in choosing it above all others. It was quiet here, secluded and far from the ears and eyes of the world during the storm. Not to mention the fact that a girl of any age would find their surroundings quite romantic.

The scene was set against an exquisite background of color and form. The soft, melodic trickle of a nearby stream eased the silence. The fresh, robust scent of a garden mid-rain hung about them companionably while the breeze shifted the night onward. Broken, wounded shafts of silver moonlight breathed heavily along a pale, stone path and dripped across the perfectly clustered flowers. By daylight, their colors and hues melded and clashed in a symphony of elaborate design –but the gentle, lover's caress of deep shadow and moonlight truly showcased the endless beauty that lay around them.

Late summer, and the flowers piqued in anxious climax; their scents heady and lingering within the recent downpour. Already, their dewy lips pursed before the brewing sky; begging, aching to be released from the long awaited agony of summer. Their bursts of fragrance and life would soon wither and fade beneath the unrelenting cold to come. It was both pitiable and beautiful in a tragic sort of way. All things pleaded for sweet release, only to shrivel and die the moment their greatest wishes were realized.

He glanced down at the bundle in his arms. She smelled like rain; as if she'd been washed clean and stood before him pure and untouched. Maybe even untouchable. He let go then, noting to himself that she had made no move to pull away from him. She was acting very strangely tonight. Normally, she'd be half crazed to be drug off by her hero to some romantic spot. Now she knew who he was though, and that had ended the eager fire in her eyes as quickly as it had first appeared.

The thought sent a sharp pain through him as he longingly watched her back away a few steps. His only obsession, his dream lover…his goddess; her hair was wet and curling around her form possessively, her skin nearly glowing beneath the subtle mixture of moonlight and streetlamp. He was lost to her, and had no will to fight it. In that moment more than any other, he realized that no matter what happened –even if it meant the complete surrender to death and hell, he needed her. Not desired or wanted her, but honest-to-god would die without her.

"I'm sorry to steal you away like this," he began hoarsely, throat heavy and dry for no other reason than his own nerves. The cool façade receded tonight; he knew he had done something terribly wrong at their last meeting and therefore was determined to rectify it. Besides, she'd never been one for pretence. "I won't keep you out long. You must be tired."

The resounding silence throbbed in his ears, slowly uncoiling the bundle of nerves floating in his stomach. His throat scratched in the damp air, eyes watching her for any sign that she'd heard him. But she remained perfectly still, outlined by the drooping, swaying branched of a nearby weeping willow. Thick golden tresses swung in time, alternately lapping at her figure in greedy lust and trailing through the playful night wind. He took her silence in hand, though, steadying himself before speaking again.

"I wanted to apologize; ask you to forget everything I said the other night." His words signaled her first movement. Her head tilted to the side in curiosity, eyebrow rising in silent question. The silvery moonlight smoothed across her face like cream across ivory, and quickly stole what tiny bit of breath he had in his lungs. She said nothing, but her question froze the nervous bundle in his abdomen and sent shivers dancing across his lower spine.

"Not the part where I told you I loved you," he amended quickly, suddenly feeling quite sheepish and awkward before her, "I meant that." The quiet sincerity gave him courage, even though he suddenly wished he'd never spoken the words at all. Ever since that night, he'd felt nearly every emotion there was, had pondered things he'd never bothered with before. Since when had he been so childish and afraid of a girl? He'd always felt calm and determined before. She was ruining him with her silence, with her anger. He was trying to apologize! Didn't that mean anything? He swallowed again, nearly coughing at the painful scratch in his throat. "Please say something."

"What do you want me to say?" Her countering reply was curt and guarded as both arms folded hastily across her chest.

The words died in his throat at the immanent signs of fire. It was something yes, but he knew all too well how she could be when provoked. She was angry, obviously shielding herself from him. One could almost see the steam rolling off her stiff form- or was it the mist? He fought the urge to shake his head, replacing it again with a tiny bit of his earlier confidence.

" 'I forgive you' would be a good place to start, I think." He grinned, hoping to lighten the sallow mood and ease her concerns. Instead, heated blue eyes slanted in irritation. The first chill wind of the season swept past, tugging at her hair and skirt with sharp fingers. Her stance shifted, legs set slightly wider as if readying for a fight.

"But I don't."

There was a dull thud. His heart maybe? All the breath rushed from his lungs in one great puff of anxiety and the smile sputtered and went out. That aching spot in his chest that always seemed to react to her ached in throbbing time with his heartbeat. His already dry throat scratched and hurt, as if he were swallowing all the painful words he could think of at once.

"You don't even know what you did, I bet. You can't be sorry for it."

"Yes I can. What kind of dumb rule is that?" He countered confusedly, mind spinning. Her initial attack had lit something in him, and instinctual need to defend himself. Besides, what was he, some sort of mind reader? "How the hell was I supposed to know it would piss you off?"

"What?" from the confused look on her face, she obviously had not been able to follow his train of thought. He groaned; that much should have been obvious, she wasn't a mind reader either.

"Sorry." He shifted, feeling his hackles rising for a fight like they did with the Odango. But this wasn't some whiny middle school brat; this was the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with. He had to be calm and cool, get the answers he needed and convince her to give him a chance. "Can I at least ask why you won't go out with me?"

"You mean," she paused here to kick at a small pebble with a red boot before continuing, "besides the fact that you're an arrogant, womanizing, self-centered jerk? Maybe the fact that I don't really want to be just another notch in your belt? Gosh, I don't know, Mamoru-kun."

God, _sarcasm_? From _Moon_? The world had officially gone nuts in the last few minutes. The girl was sweet as sugar and definitely fiery, but sarcasm was not something he'd ever seen from her. Especially not of the scathingly true variety, that was the worst. He had to admit, with a look back, maybe revealing his civilian identity hadn't been such a good idea to begin with. Coming from his side, such relations were normal, but from hers he must look like the a-typical male. Well…shit.

"Look, let's just…focus on the subject, k? I haven't been like that in a long time, and it's all because I met you, Moon. I just want a chance…"

"To what?" She broke through the nervous tirade with a calm retort. "Take me on a date? At your place? Then what, you want to sleep with me and brag to all your college buddies about it? Everyone's hero gets to sleep with the stupid little Senshi girl. Very honorable."

"Now wait just a minute…" he broke through, fire rising again at the accusations. He had fantasized more than once about her and him, but none of that had anything to do with anyone from the college.

"How did you describe me again? Big boobs? Great legs? I forget the exact wording."

The words fizzled out on the tip of his tongue as the conversation with Matsumori came to mind from a few days earlier. She'd heard about that? Shit! He hadn't meant it seriously! It was just to throw them off the trail, not for her to somehow overhear! Had she been close enough to eavesdrop on them? Had she been there? Had the pining brat actually published it in hopes of getting him back? A cold chill went through him at the thought, and suddenly all the hostility made sense.

"I was really mad at first, because I thought only a class 'A' jerk like you would talk about me like that –like I was just some little toy. Now I just don't care. I spent way too long caring. If you're done, I'd like to go home." The cold wind tugged at her unrelenting form, almost the same way his eyes ran over her longingly. He felt like the wind, begging and pleading for something he could never have.

She turned to go, arms dropping down to her sides as she went. The hollow click of heels against concrete broke the burgeoning silence in a steady rhythm. Each little tap felt like a nail in the coffin, and each gust of wind sputtered against the dying ember of hope flickering in his chest. It was the loneliest time of his life that he could remember, even more so than waking half dead in a hospital bed with no memory at all. And he was alone again…just like always. And he always would be without her. So alone…

"Wait!" he called, desperate to stop the sudden sense of helplessness drowning his soul. She paused, barely turning her head at all to show she'd heard him. It was enough to see the faint glimmer of tears running down her face, and enough to prove he could still make things right. She was as hurt as he was, and even if it took forever he'd make it up to her. "Moon, please don't go."

God, he sounded so pitiful. But he didn't care, as long as she turned to him, came back. Tears stung the backs of his eyes for the first time in…forever. For once he was glad to be wearing this ridiculous domino mask, because it hurt like hell to watch her walk away from him.

"Please." He forced his voice to steady though it took more effort than he would have liked. "I would do anything for you."

She reached up to wipe at the streaks on her face with one hand, he watched her take a steady breath. The moment stretched on forever between then before she turned to him again. The moonlight glittered across her tear-stained face and trembling mouth, and reignited what little hope he had left.

"Mamoru-kun, the day you can look the real me in the face and say that, we'll talk. Until then, don't count on it."

A smile split across his face a moment later, the cloud of despair ripped from him as he came forward quickly to grip her shoulders. He could have kissed her! Of course, considering how things were between them right now, that probably wasn't the best idea. It didn't stop the warm grin plastered to his face –but then, he didn't think anything could.

"Consider it done."


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Usagi stumbled down the temple steps in complete confusion and doubt. It had been a hard Senshi meeting, called for the specific purpose of talking about her and Kamen's little jaunt through the college gardens that night. The girls had not been happy about her running off with the masked vigilante, and nothing could persuade them that she hadn't been committing treason. Maybe that was some of her confusion, she wondered, maybe that was the upsetting fact. Maybe it was the strange difference between what others saw, and what the Senshi saw. Two entirely different beings existed in the same person: one, the embodiment of all things good and courageous and right, the other, a pitiful little nobody that couldn't even gain the respect of her friends anymore.

God, it hurt –she hurt. Everywhere. Her arms ached and throbbed with the effort it took to hold them steady against her face, her legs burned and her chest felt constricted. The crows screamed and shrieked in the distance, the cooling air tugged at her uniform in playful abandon. Unlike any other day, though, she didn't have the heart to pay attention. The past few months had been a wild ride, to be sure, but last night really took the cake.

It was all from the training. The heady weightlessness that accompanied each exercise period could last hours. Thankfully, she had more than given up any hope of getting through school now, so she could just lie in bed and let the world spin around her. It was disembodying. Nausea and fatigue felt like constant companions, but she didn't dare stop. She didn't dare let go of this one thing that she could do.

Her face buried itself behind pale, shaking hands in frustration. The scent of wood and spring and grass was dying in the breeze –a sure sign that summer would soon be joining it yet again. She stifled a sob, forcing herself to breathe. Summer was leaving her, as well as any sense of hope.

The thought was a hollow thud somewhere near her heart as she walked. Grey cement peppered with shoes swam in and out of her vision, still unnoticed by the young girl. It was a sad whispering of fading summer air tugging at her pigtails, the dying sun caressing her back in forlorn sorrow. Come play, they begged her, but she couldn't listen now. She wasn't a child anymore; she had to accept that fact. But that left her in a strange place, a lost mid-road between adult and juvenile; awkward and confused about everything.

And that was why she hated Sailor Moon. Hate itself was a strong word, and not one that she would use lightly. She hated Moon, just as she hated Mamoru. It was that undecided, in-between-ness that could not be ok. She could not help being a hero, and she could not help loving a man who despised her. God, when did it all get so complicated? Moon was everything anyone wanted to see (except for maybe the other Senshi) and garnered trust and respect and awe wherever she went. She was strong and brave and had won the love of even him, of all people. What was Usagi compared to that?

But that hate drove her onward. She knew now more than ever that it was her only chance at honor. No school would allow her to pass with that, no family member would look at her as they did at Moon, no city would ever be grateful for the presence of the young school girl-the same as any other failing, ridiculous, helpless girl out there. But for Moon –now there was something everyone could enjoy. There was something worth fighting for.

So she trained. It was loveless and ugly and hard. It made her bones want to scream in agony sometimes. It made her bleed and cry and break in every way she could name, and it had only been happening for a month now. God, a month of pure hell. Too many times, she'd gone home horribly sick to her stomach and barely made it to her room before collapsing. Did the others know? Did they care? She had no idea.

All she knew now, maybe all she would ever know, was that it wasn't enough. She would have to push herself harder than ever before. She would have to be stronger than they wanted, better than they wanted. She had to prove to all of them that Moon wasn't just some ghostly hero that haunted the streets and ensured everyone's perfect protection. She wanted to show them all that Usagi was not just some weakling who would take their insults, their jabs, or their adoration just because she happened to be wearing a tiara.

It would take so much more. Her chest hurt abominably at the thought of just how much. It would take a sacrifice greater than any she had ever given. Usagi herself would never be the hero, and so must be swept away for the greater good. When all was said and done only Moon would remain. She would be a cold, distant savior who worked for the common good, who destroyed all in her path, and who did not care for the love of a man who could ruin her in turn. She would not be weak. She would not be taken lightly.

"Oh God," she moaned, hugging at her middle and shaking her head in disbelief, "I watch too many cartoons!"

Still, there was much to be done. She'd gone willingly with him last night, and that had been terribly weak of her. She'd listened to his rant even after reading that horrible article in the newsletter at Rei's the day before. She'd struck a deal with the Devil himself that would only end in a giant mess on both sides. She'd been accused of treason by the Senshi, had been put on suspension by Luna, and was soon to be grounded for a failed Japanese test. Too many stupid mistakes, and just like her to do all of them! Her teacher had probably already called the house, Luna would be making sure she didn't disappear, and Mamoru would….

Oh God, Mamoru would…. That had been the stupidest mistake of all. Chiba Mamoru was known for being the most intelligent man ever to grace Azubu Tech, and probably a whole slew of other prestigious schools as well. He'd be an idiot not to find her in a heartbeat now that she'd challenged him.

She hadn't even meant it like that. She'd just wanted to point out…

Gah, none of that mattered now. She had to stay away from him at all costs, had to muck up the lines and hide her trail as best she could. The suspension would help a little. It would keep her out of the majority of each fight, and in that case, out of eyesight a little longer. If only she knew what brought him there, what it was that let him know something was happening; she could at least focus on one thing at a time.

Almost home now. The wind was still tugging at her hair and skirt; pushing her school uniform against her skin and outlining the scrawny form beneath. She didn't want to see her mom's face, or hear what she had to say. Once the rest of the Senshi meeting was over, Luna would be next in line. Soft golden eyebrows bunched together in consternation. None of this would stop her from getting sent to bed with a measly scrap of toast and some soup.

The thought made the ground turn to liquid beneath her toes.

Mamoru wandered the city streets agitatedly, his mind churning over and over as the bustling scenes passed by. He'd spent the two days since that night in the college gardens compiling a list of possible names. Understandably it was incomplete, the shear number of girls he'd turned down over the last year and a half had been…enlightening. The glamour of the Senshi was so complete he was fairly sure he wouldn't recognize her even if he did catch up (otherwise he already would have). This didn't stop him from hypothesizing, though. The transformation phase could change anything about physical appearance, so he'd included all shapes and sizes. It was a different thing entirely when they came one or two at a time –he hadn't realized how many it had been since meeting the blond.

Once the list had been made, he'd written down the few things he knew of her. She was klutzy, good natured, sweet, and strong; which led to another possible list of hangouts. She probably worked out, that meant the gym, and also probably hung around the commons when not in class. Therefore, he'd gone to the gym first today, just to see who all was there. Needless to say, Itsumori, Natasha, and Yoshi were the first to be crossed off. Too graceful, too weak, or too strong it seemed. He'd noted it in his little book. Not to mention Itsumori was in a women's weight lifting competition, and Natasha spoke with a ridiculous American accent. Yoshi was probably just there for the boys.

One hand slashed through his windswept hair in shame and frustration. It didn't matter, though, the black fringe was unkempt and his clothes were rumpled and uneven. So intent he was to leave the gym behind, he hadn't bothered with his usual once-over before heading out the door. It was only the beginning of things left undone.

Even now, his books were abandoned haphazardly all over the apartment, his management homework unfinished. Food lay molding in the bottom of his fridge as he'd never allowed it to do before. He spent so much time worrying about that damn list that nothing else seemed to take any precedent at all. God, his homework, his job, his college career were going to be wrecked by some girl! Some ridiculous, wonderful, girl with eyes like soft blue stones and hair the color of perfect fairy-tale gold; she'd drive him mad.

The thought agonized him. If all that gorgeous hair went to waste in the transformation phase, he'd flat out cry. All clichés aside, it was true. God, what her eyes did to him…and the thought of touching her hair…

"Miss, miss! Are you alright?" the startled cry broke through his thoughts as he turned curiously. Across the street, people were fumbling awkwardly around someone as they slunk to the cement, neatly knocking into three or four people as they went. A businessman knelt down beside the fallen body, furthering Mamoru's interest. His curiosity piqued, he turned fully to the commotion and froze the moment a golden handful of shimmering hair glinted in the sunlight. Impossibly golden…something from a fairytale…

Another moment and he was sprinting across the street, heart pounding in agony at the thought of her…Sailor Moon…. The screeching tires and blaring horns meant nothing to him as he raced across traffic. Blood swished angrily in his ears, hoarse breaths tore at his chest. If she were hurt, if anything had happened to her…. The bus stop bench blocked his view irritatingly well as he dodged around cars and people in an effort to reach her side. Nothing else mattered –nothing but her.

"Miss! Somebody call an ambulance! You!" The older man came into view first, along with a full view of the telling long blond hair. A moment later and the bench slid aside. He sucked in a surprised breath, afraid to say anything then. The noise continued as people bustled around in panic and confusion, but none of it made any sense.

Sprawled across the deadly white cement lay a form he knew only too well. Golden hair clung to the ground like sticky fingers, navy blue skirt flapped in the breeze. The pounding, rushing sound of water ebbed. Each breath slowed and stilled within him as realization struck home. God, he was a fool.

"Odango, you amaze me." He muttered quietly, turning to leave the blond to her joy ride in the ambulance. She'd have one hell of a headache when she woke up, but that shouldn't surprise anyone after an embarrassing face-plant like that. She'd be completely humiliated when she woke up. The thought caused a wry grin to break the somber lines of his face. He was a fool too, thinking that Moon would actually be in trouble on the streets. The woman took on demons from another world almost nightly.

And well, he had other things to think about. Moon, for instance, or that damn homework that had been hanging around his apartment for weeks without a second glance. There could be a way to divide the list of names up in a logical order depending on personality traits. But then, if he wanted to spend all that time figuring out rankings according to that, it could take months and he still had that homework. But homework took away from the most important things, like figuring out who Moon was!

"Excuse me, sir!" someone called, breaking his troubled, and somewhat circular, train of thought. He turned back again, noting the curious gaze the business man dealt him from the ground. He cleared his throat pensively, looking back and forth between them before he spoke again. "Do you know her? Could you…help us out a little?"

"Uh, I guess." Mamoru awkwardly raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. He didn't really want to be mixed up in Odango's affairs at all, and this guy didn't seem to catch the drift. "Her brother works at Crown, you could probably take her there instead of the ambulance. She hates hospitals." Where…had that come from? Random. Well, Crown was close, and the older man looked perfectly capable of either carrying or finding someone else to carry her.

"That might be a bad idea-unless this kind of thing happens often?"

This time, he really did chuckle.

"Whatever. Knowing her, she probably drank too many milkshakes and not enough water." Too caught up in his own amusement at the comment, he didn't bother to note the apparent disgust running through the small group.

"Bastard." Someone spat from his left, forcing the grin to slide from his face.

"Well, look. I'm going to be late for a meeting if I don't get going, and you don't look like you're headed anywhere important." The business man checked his watch quickly. "Why don't you take her to her brother's or call someone or something. At least you know her."

And that was how he found himself hauling around the little shrimp like some creepy knight in shining armor. God, if anyone saw this he'd have that on his plate too! Damn idiot, making him feel guilty just because he knew her name! He was wasting valuable time over something that she could have easily avoided had she had some semblance of a brain rattling around underneath all that blond hair. Well, he should know better than to expect anything from the short spitfire other than whining, wailing, and any other immature tantrums. Including this.

He sighed, shifting her weight more out of irritation than discomfort. She wasn't terribly heavy, and like his thought earlier, it was nice and cool out. It was just stupid to waste a good hour of his time getting her to the crown and making sure Motoki knew about it. His friend would not be happy, especially if he ever found out Mamoru had tried to leave her to her fate on the street. The blond was really over protective, and frankly, illogical. Left to her own devices, the Odango would probably learn a hell of a lot more about the facts of life. Too many people meddling in things, saving her when she should be strong on her own two feet -the whole situation caused things like this. It was a whole lot of trouble that could have been avoided.

Of course, if he hadn't come running the second he saw a spot of gold, he could have continued on his little walk without any interruption either. Damn kid, making him think of Moon. The irritations just didn't seem to end today. Of course, he'd known that was going to be the case when he woke up to a pot of fresh coffee…with the grinds from yesterday. Then there'd been the spoiled eggs in his fridge, the laundry overflowing in his bedroom, the textbooks littering his living room like a battle field, and the wall of suspects that still had no foreseeable end in sight.

So Odango was just a fun little continuation of a bad-day-gone worse. Joy. He shot her sleeping form an irritated glance, wishing someone she knew would walk by now that they were getting closer to her favorite hangout. Instead, he was sure he spotted at least one fan eyeing him curiously from across the street. His mouth tightened into a firm, angry line. Too late to go back now.

"Oi! Motoki-kun!" The arcade doors had barely parted before he started calling for the tall blond man. The faster he got rid of her, the better. God, he was never going to live it down! Knowing his luck, someone probably snapped a picture of it for that stupid publication. Curses flew through his mind in rapid succession, but his eyes were focused on the worker currently hunching over a videogame in the back.

"What's up, Mamor-Usagi-chan! Oh my GOD! Is she ok, what happened! Bring her back, Unazuki! Come upfront! Now!"

He all but tripped his way to the back room, obvious panic breaking the usual smoothness of his motions. The shy redhead glanced out curiously from the break room, green eyes taking in the small bundle hanging limply from Mamoru's arms. Like her brother, he noted, her reaction was horrified instead of mocking. God, what a weird family. Must be something in their genes. Come to think of it, everyone was freaking out about this way more than they should be –it was just the Odango, and she probably did stupid shit like this all the time.

Goddamn kid, always screwing things up. She always did that.

"I'll get it!" her rushed answer barely broke his thoughts as he pushed by her. Motoki flung boxes from the broken booth seat in wild abandon before turning to take her small body from the uncaring embrace of his best friend.

The gentle concern bothered him, and he hated Motoki's focus. God, all of this just because –god, he'd said it a million times now. Thought it, at least…stupid blond. He always felt so…turned around when she was there. It was probably her ridiculous personality clashing against his or something –made him…illogical. A sneer broke across his face as soda exchanged hands and Motoki's gentle hands were holding her steady to tip the glass against her mouth. He couldn't watch anymore. Irritated the hell out of him.

He didn't bother to glance back as the door closed swiftly behind him. Better to leave her to her 'older brother' than stand around being pissed and accomplishing nothing.

At least that crossed one name off his list for good. Moon would never be so pathetic –or so young.

Usagi had sat in the shadowed back room for nearly 2 whole minutes without understanding what had happened. One moment, she'd been rushing through the streets of Tokyo on her way to a training session, and the next Motoki was ordering her to eat a huge pile of fries. She must be losing her mind. Of course, she had no idea how many times that exact thought had crossed her mind in the past few months. It seemed there was no room for anything else there anymore.

It was nice back here, no one around. The fries tasted old and chalky, the soda flat and watered down. She hurt. Oh god, she hurt. Every bone and joint ached with movement and every time she bothered to think about training, tears began to well in the corners of her eyes. The pressure choked her now, the hours and hours she'd spent kicking her butt on the field to even get a smidge better and still she had nothing to show for it. There was nothing, at least, but the slow ache leaking from her marrow, and from her skull like oozing tears.

It didn't take much from there to figure out what had happened. Breath hissed from between her clenched teeth as she forced each leg to move. What a moron she could be –and how careless.

"Usa-chan?" Fire raced across her as she jumped, thoughts jumbling together at the creak of the door behind her. Her neck began to crane toward the visitor, but it was too much. Tears rolled down her face, untouched by the leaden hands at her sides. Oh, how could she hurt so much?

Gentle, nearly indiscernible footsteps swished across the cold cement floor. Even when in nurturing mode though, Usagi could feel the heat, the barely contained fire brewing within her friend and fellow Senshi. She wondered if all of them were like that –the human form of their powers. Glittering violet eyes, smoldering, flickering black hair, quick and agile movements; the fire Senshi came forward into her line of sight like an unseen explosion. One word could light the path ahead in painful clarity, or turn any hope into cinders. If she were capable of it, Usagi might have disliked Hino Rei for her inherent command of power. It wasn't because she was jealous, because who would want to be the leader of such a group, but that she feared being torn apart by someone she loved. Again.

"Motoki-kun called. You ok?" For the first time ever, Usagi noticed a hint of something new in her friend. It was a feeling she herself had felt almost constantly since this whole thing started, but Rei had always been on the front line without a single hesitance. But it was that exact thing staring her in the face then. "I brought a few things; he said you'd probably be sore…"

"Rei-chan…" Usagi began, wishing she could at least stop the tears from flowing. She felt so pathetic and weak when compared to the other girl.

"Ibuprofen, aspirin cream, and chamomile tea. Now lean forward and I'll rub her neck down for you."

"I'm so sorry," The blond began, whimpering at the touch of cold cream against skin. Rei moved with precision and purpose, spreading the cooling liquid gently until the tingle covered her arms and back.

"Hush, Usagi-chan. You should have told us you had blood pressure problems. And I'm sure all the working out and not eating right didn't help any of that." Obediently, even meekly, the patient sat with quiet thoughts as Rei spoke. "Still, the fact that you've been working so hard is very impressive."

"Arigato."

"Still, something needs to be done so you don't hurt yourself." The ibuprofen was starting to take effect now, cooling the screeching nerves and dimming the blinding pain from the forefront.

"Hai."

"No unnecessary risks." The darkness of the room returned on gentle, bearable feet. Her arms were light and cool.

"We love you, Usagi. Don't forget that." She couldn't help but smile.

"…hai."

The weighted chain whipped through the air like a glittering serpent's tongue. Blood tinged the cold, grey metal weight welded firmly to the tip; fresh streams showered their gory bounty across the stone cold earth. The cool autumn air shivered in the wake of a maniac laugh, Mars bound away from the deadly weapon, though it grazed her already wounded arm in the process. The newest member of the team was raging across the field, energy crackling and arching between her fingers. Mercury blasted the area with a freezing mist, but her voice was harsh and tired with the effort it took to cast it. They all had put up the best fight possible, but it was obvious all three were in over their heads.

It was cold out. Mid-autumn air burned slightly on the edges of his ears as he watched over the fight silently. An appropriate time of year, no matter who you were, even the Dark Kingdom couldn't have evaded the much glorified holiday. Why it had chosen this particular Youma remained a mystery, as one could assume that a simple energy gathering mission would have had greater success during the frantic dash and grab feel racing through the city. Ah, but well, he'd never expected them to think so far in advance.

His form was easily hidden behind nude branches of a nearly-bare tree. He had always assumed the uniform was meant for show alone, but to find it had certain concealment capabilities had come as a pleasant surprise; especially in moments like this. Masked eyes searched the grounds, once more taking in the struggling warriors and grudgingly admitting they weren't half bad against the possessed samurai steadily hacking at their defenses. Other than the present Senshi, it would appear the battlefield was empty. Had he been any other man, he would have assumed that Moon wouldn't grace them with her presence tonight.

He was not any other man, however, and she was already here. His hot little obsession had taken to stepping in at the last minute to finish off what the others left behind in a ridiculous attempt to avoid him. A low growl built up in the back of Kamen's throat, though he didn't give in to it. She was proving to be disturbingly clever behind that happy-go-lucky façade. He hadn't planned for all of this to happen when he approached her 3 months ago. She was supposed to just grin, say yes, maybe give him a nice, long kiss… not challenge him to some demented mind game. The worst part about it was the fact she seemed to be thinking three steps ahead of him, making it impossible to pick her out of the hordes. The little brat was toying with him, and he didn't like that feeling at all.

She hadn't transformed yet. The only reason he'd known about the battle in time to witness it was due to a misspent night out with the boys. He'd had to beg pardons from Newton and Einstein when the first fireball had hit close enough to stir his coffee for him. The librarians had ushered everyone toward the offices in back while Mamoru slipped out the window inconspicuously. The following explosions had lasted a good thirty-five minutes now, and the beast showed no signs of slowing. Moon would be forced to show herself, and he was biding his time until she did.

That is, for another 50 minutes or so. Motoki had sworn on the deathbed of his ancestors (strange, given the 'burial' ceremony of the island) that Mamoru would attend at least one party this year. It had never before been much of an issue. He was disturbingly sure it was due to his wild confession to the press.

The wispy katana slithered through the air, aimed to neatly sever Mercury's head free; however, the meek genius proved herself adequately limber as she dodged back, bending herself nearly in half to avoid the hissing blade above her. The act of evasion was maybe less effective as the arch changed to strike across her abdomen and sent her spinning into the hard-packed earth. The other two leapt to her aid as the pain-filled shriek filled the glen.

This particular Youma was ranked an assassin, simply because it held no particular gathering capabilities and seemed to be designed specifically to defend against their powers. The only one doing any actual damage was Jupiter, her lightning manipulation skills too fresh to be understood by the enemy. Kamen had only seen her twice in the past several months, and he was sure she had only been inducted a few weeks ago. Mars and Mercury had been with Moon for so long that he'd been half convinced that they were the only other Senshi out there. At Jupiter's appearance, he wondered curiously if there were an entire solar system's worth down to Neptune.

Another heavy flash of green and thunder boomed across the dying grass, returning his thoughts to the fight before him. Jupiter was holding her own against the Samurai as Mars drug Mercury aside to tend to her sword cut. Given the amount of red dying her white fuku, Kamen realized it could be a fairly dangerous wound. Back when he'd declared pre-med, he would have been completely distracted in diagnosing the thing long distance to test his skills. That would have been stupid anyway.

The familiar rush of adrenaline rippling through his chest painfully broke this train of thought and he straitened instinctively. The white hot tiara arched across the grounds a little to his left before she emerged from the trees. His heartbeat thundered excitedly in his chest at the sight of her familiar curves. She looked even better than he remembered her for some reason. The moonlight seemed even more definitive across her body as she leapt forward sans the usual speech.

The tiara connected against the Youma's sword hand, returning to the short blond as an agonized screech rumbled in its wake. She moved faster, hit harder and basically seemed more on top of her game than he'd seen before. Of course, after watching the slow, exhausted moves of the other three, anyone would look amazing. Moon herself wasn't exactly the greatest fighter; he realized that and freely admitted it. However, the show proved to be impressive despite the fact.

She jumped, flying roundhouse, shocking even Kamen, as it slammed heavily into the monster's head and sent it sprawling into the dirt. He hadn't even realized Moon could land a hit like that! It was something he'd have to ask her when he cornered her after the fight. She dove forward, avoiding the Chinese stars with effortless grace and landed a left hook right into the jaw, once again knocking her opponent back.

The astonished whistle was cut short as classic Moon got her foot caught on something and nose-dived into the grass. He couldn't help the resulting chuckle. She was just too adorable. How in the hell had he made it so long without seeing her? The samurai whooped triumphantly, aiming his sword for the death blow and signaling Kamen's heroic entrance.

This was the fun part, he thought as he rocked forward. The cane slid neatly from his subspace pocket, following two blood red roses. The tiny missiles landed with perfect accuracy, slicing both across the sword arm and the quickly descending tip to deflect the blow. A quick howl and a shot of blood later, Kamen landed in a perfect crouch, cane whipping upward to swipe away the errant blade before the creature could regain its momentum. Switching hands, he shot forward, landing the end neatly in its stomach and launching the beast into the air.

His second concern was Moon, though by the time he'd knocked the wind out of it, she'd found her footing again. She looped around him, barely a rustle of clothing, before landing a heavy axe kick directly into its neck. The thing howled in pain, limbs churning in the cold air.

"Moon! Duck!" Jupiter's gruff voice boomed across the space between them. Kamen leapt forward at the command, knowing if he had bothered to search for it, the answering reflex would have been too late. Suddenly, the world was filled with Moon and earth. His movement was none too soon as, above the prone couple; glittering throwing knives slithered in the crackling autumn air.

"You know, you don't have to stiffen up on my account." Kamen muttered to the bundle of gold in his arms. His rib cackled in pain a moment later and she rolled away from him in a huff.

"Perv!" He was still trying not to laugh when she called over one shoulder and ran back to join the fight.

"Supreme Thunder!" The glade boomed loud enough to make his ears pop. The deaf monotone drowned a bone-rattling crack as sturdy wood gave way. Ominously looming branches quickly became crushing talons as he leapt forward with all his strength. Hopefully it would be enough to not just clear the distance of the trunk, but knock Moon away too.

The weight quickly bore the hero to his knees, another branch delivering a solid thump alongside the skull as he fell. Fluttering lights scrawled across both eyes before chin met earth with a resolute smack. And, as always in such comical situations, a few stray leaves drifted aimlessly down to settle on his already aching head.

"Well, I guess that takes care of the Youma." Jupiter muttered with some sense of humor above him. It hurt, yet the man couldn't help but risk a glance back toward the hulking figure. The twisted branches flailed around him like a spider's web, some of the larger bits holding on by sap and willpower alone. There, skewered like Youma-kabob, lay the assassin; a large, dead tree branch protruding from its stomach.

"Good thinking, hitting it with the tree like that, Jupiter. Obviously wood was its weakness." He glanced around, noting the others closing in him. It was surprising to note that the fire senshi may have touched a smidge of the sarcastic with that comment. Mercury was clutching at her stomach in pain, clinging to Mars' side to make it across the glen.

"Erm, right!" the Amazonian warrior answered not a moment later. Did Mars just roll her eyes and huff?

"Are you alright?" Moon asked quietly. He twisted his head, hardly believing the luck of it all.

"Damn, I was kinda hoping it'd pin both of us down." Moon went red in embarrassment and glanced around at the other Senshi. Mars snorted.

"Yeah, he's fine." Carefully, she shifted the blue Senshi as her head lolled to the side. "I've got to get her home and cleaned up, Moon. Come with me."

"Weird night." He muttered, mostly to himself. Why had he said that out loud? And why did his head have to hurt so much?

"He's hit his head though. Should we at least lift the tree off of him?" Moon asked quietly to the other two. She lifted Mercury's other arm around her shoulder to help carry the weight as she spoke, careful not to jostle the injured girl.

"Ouch." He answered calmly. Jupiter sighed.

"I've got it."

And they'd left him there.

30 minutes later, he was still laying there in the grass staring up at the sky. His legs were sore, his head ached, and the Senshi of all people in the world, had left him there. Any other moment in his life, he'd probably be bitter about that. But since none of them knew who he was, and since he assumed they knew about his healing, it probably made logical sense. Still. The Senshi; the apparent protectors of this world and the future and other…really important things- and they'd just left him there, laying on the ground. It would take another 20 minutes before he pushed himself up off the ground to survey the damage.

The tree had done considerable damage. He'd been lucky to land where the branches thinned. The Youma, obviously, had not been so. The shear amount of weight punching through armor and bone was terrifying. Had he been under there, it wouldn't have just pinned straight through him, it would have married him to the grass.

Shaken, barely standing upright, he hobbled across the field and toward the library's dark shadow. It could have been him. In the back of his mind, somewhere deep in his chest that weight crushed and ground and scraped. They might have left him there, but at least it didn't leave him dead.

He needed some coffee.

It was a busy night out on the streets. Children and parents alike had begun the famous trek for candy. He passed millions of hobgoblins, comic book characters, and sushi on the way. The chill wind tore at his face and cape, and subtly pointed out that he'd lost his hat somewhere back there. Too bad, not that it wouldn't come back next time he transformed. It was just…messy business leaving bits of your secret identity around town. Never know when some random crime scene investigator might get smart with the DNA testing.

Once the monument of the apartment building came into view, Mamoru cursed. He'd promised to meet Motoki tonight to go to some ridiculous party. He'd even got candy. Why? Because….well…because he had. Right. Pot luck, and he didn't have time to cook. It was a good thing. He'd have to open the door for trick or treaters before the blond got there, and no screaming mob of children was going to invade the place due to lack of sugar and chocolate.

Of course, knowing his luck, Motoki had already been there and left, which was fine too. It didn't stop him from retransforming on the balcony to cover for any tears done by the branches to his uniform. Already, the door thumped like a heartbeat, loud enough to permeate the sliding glass door.

Kamen barely had time to slip in and cross the room before another round of pounding began on the door. He flung his hat toward the couch, slipped off the mask and deftly grabbed the pair of vampire teeth from the entryway table. His hands closed over both the doorknob and the candy bowl at the same time before the bright light of the hallway shattered the darkness around him.

He blinked, carefully gaining control of his jaw at the sexy picture that greeted him. Four girls, each in completely different costumes stared back confusedly. Apparently none of them were members of his fan club, because every single one of those girls knew his address. These seemed to recognize him the moment the wood slid back. It also revealed the fact that not all girls throw on a pair of animal ears and corsetry. These had obviously put a lot of thought into what they were wearing.

A tall, chestnut-haired Disney princess stood there first, looking like she'd just stepped out of that one little kid movie in butter colored satin. Someone had taken a long time to pull her hair back just right, half up in a gentle knot that left the rest of her hair falling in soft curls. Honey brown eyes were lined 2-d fashion in soft brown, and eyebrows to match. The attempt at real life cartoon was pretty convincing.

"Trick or treat!" both she and the spiky blue-haired Amazon called girlishly. He held out the bowel silently, looking over the much shorter companion in front. Her pixie-cut blue hair had been spiked straight up, and held there by an intricate wooden crown that stretched from the corner of her left eye and braided back. Her outfit was blue and black, strapped anywhere one could fit it, and complimented by a bow strung across one shoulder and a staff. Ancient looking tattoos etched the skin of her face down the opposite side, and fell down both arm and leg anywhere visible. Her costume had to be the best one he'd seen tonight, even if he had known her before, there was no telling who was beneath all of that makeup and hair gel.

The third, for all fit and flair wore a hot little white nurse getup, complete with stethoscope and clipboard. Shiny black tresses had been pulled back into a loose bun, playfully tousled to look sexy. He was fairly sure she was supposed to be an anime character, as her face had been chalked out then redrawn in blacks and reds. Her eyes were blue-green, and obviously contacts.

The last was short, yes, but her silvery-blond hair came up just below his chin thanks to the lace-up stiletto boots wrapped around her feet. She wore a slayer costume, complete with popped-collar black jacket, corset, and fishnets to show off lean, muscular legs. He felt his mouth go dry just looking at her, admiring the waterfall of silver-enhanced blond hair that hung in a loose sheet across her back. For some reason, he couldn't stop looking at her.

By the time he'd eyed each of them, they'd grabbed they're goodies and sang a thanks in unison. He nodded in return, but his eyes were still locked onto the slayer. Shy little thing, wasn't she? Violent purple eyes stared fixedly at the ground as the group turned to troupe away down the hallway to the next door. The hallway lights turned her hair into liquid silver as she walked.

"Trick or treat!" shrill little voices broke his revere, a reminder of everyone else in the hallway.

"Yeah." He returned, lowering the bowel for a muskrat, and other…creatures. Greedy little hands nearly knocked the candy out of his hand. A few tired parents smiled a thanks before the next group came through. How monotonous.

"Oi! Mamoru-kun!" Motoki's head poked out of the crowd. "Have you seen the girls yet? I saw them walk in before me."

"The girls?" His friend scanned faces in the crowd for a moment before lighting up in delight.

"Ohiyo! Usagi-chan! Rei-chan!" He chirped, raising a black arm to someone in the crowd. Usagi, ne? What did she dress up as? A Disney princess? A teacup? Someone's stuffed teddy bear complete with bowtie? He turned just in time to see a wisp of blond hair disappear behind a corner. It hadn't even looked the right shade. "Mamoru-kun, are you seriously count Dracula? What's with the collar?"

He scoffed, turning back to his friend rather than stare off down the hall in search of the girl. Motoki was wearing…a black leotard. Head to toe. With little…smiley suns on his cheeks. And yellow flip flops.

"It's authentic looking. At least I'm not a giant foam sun in a leotard."

Hey guys, sorry I haven't been around since uh...2008. It's been a while. sorry.

So you have TemporarilyInsane to thank for this chapter, and any successive chapters. I got THE VERY BEST FANLETTER from them and it made me want to finish this story SO BAD! No worries, the other chapters are currently being worked on, so I might actually finish this thing. I know, big shock hu? I really miss the fanfiction community, I grew up reading all of these great stories, and I'm currently taking creative writing classes. Hopefully someday I'll be legit. thanks for hanging in there and maybe even reading this ridiculously late chapter. It goes to show you how much those letters mean to us, and especially to me. So this chapter's for you, TI. I love you guys!

Ellourrah


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter 7

The soft click of metal brushed fingers along the quiet hall. Light beat a short path across beige carpet, a footstep of reality into the blackness beyond. A white glove pressed firmly against heavy wood, the sound muffled as neatly as a bagged corpse. Ruckus from the streets filtered through closed windows, slunk across the carpet in whispers. Demons slithered from every corner in the form of shifting shadows, the wind howled angrily at the night sky. Velvet blackness beckoned beyond the small room, marked the edge of that reality into the abyss.

The white glove lifted but a moment before landing with a dull thud against wood again. This time, it left a dent.

Why; why had he not asked her name! He'd been so intent to stare, so blessedly brainless in the moment of truth. She'd been the only thought in his head for nearly three hours, and he hadn't said one damn word to the girl! She'd just stood there and stared at the ground and walked away, _and he'd just let her!_

No wonder Moon thought he was a damn fool, because he was! It was her standing right there on his doorstep, eating his treats, and just damn well _existing_ in his presence and he just stood there! Really? Was he insane?

No one, he repeated the thought again, _no one_ had even caught his eye in over a year! Because of Moon, and her amazing, ridiculous, gorgeous, amazing (he might be repeating himself a bit) self had blinded him from anything and anyone else. Yet he'd spoken to her before at some point, so why hadn't she had the same effect on him then? What the hell had changed? Why the HELL had it changed without PERMISSION!

He gave the door another thump, just in case it got any ideas, before turning toward the living room. The vampire teeth were thrown carelessly onto the front table, shoes clacking against marble floor as he went. He drew a deep breath, releasing the transformation as he walked. Petals blurred the world just a moment before he slid onto the couch in frustrated silence.

She'd been standing right there. And she was hot.

He could retrace everything about her costume as if he'd spent hours staring at her instead of a few moments; the fishnets crisscrossing her thighs, the corset showing off the tiny waist and rounded hips. Great boobs, wow she had great boobs. He could write a whole damn sonnet on them. Hell, he could probably write his whole senior thesis on them

That…might have been a bit of a ridiculous idea; but it was a good one anyway.

He leaned forward, rubbing gently at the back of his neck as he did. It was still sore where the tree had smacked him, but the psychometry was doing well without his concentration. It was also a stroke of accidental genius that made him keep his battle tux on tonight, as it tended to speed the process. Had he thought about it, he would have made up some dumb excuse to wear it during that broken nose business last summer. Love was kind of a bitch. Probably why he'd never bothered with it before.

Interesting, that no one had ever had a problem seeing him as Mamoru when he wanted them to. After all, everyone had said his vampire costume was convincing, not a word was mentioned about Tuxedo Kamen. He wondered briefly if Moon had ever had that sort of situation. Of course, the only thing she could really double as in that outfit was a cheerleader or a stripper. Hopefully, there was less call for the second.

"Just hold up one damn minute!" he muttered forcefully, all but jumping from the couch in his rush to reason. If people could recognize him as Chiba Mamoru while still in costume, why couldn't they recognize him as Tuxedo Kamen at the same time? What was it about his costume that kept others from figuring out who he was? Why had he not thought about the henshin magic earlier?

There was only one thing to do under these circumstances, and it involved bringing out 'the Beast'. Calmly, even efficiently, he made his way back into the bedroom and gripped the heavy metal from behind the door. Pulling carefully across the carpet, the monster was set gently in the middle of the living room, lit perfectly from every direction before he withdrew the soft black cover. It slithered pleasingly to the ground, revealing in all its beautiful glory, the Beast.

Motoki could say what he liked, but giant rolling mirrors were pretty damn useful when you model for a living. Or stalk Senshi. Either way it was pretty awesome, even if his blond friend didn't agree.

He couldn't help taking of the shirt and flexing a few times, just to try it out. Then, the serious work began.

The fuku could literally change anything about physical appearance, or so he had assumed until now. It hadn't occurred to him he could actually test that theory. Maybe he wasn't a Senshi per-say; however he did use a similar transformation to achieve Kamen status. So it had to work on the same basic principles, right?

He would have to be methodical, testing bit by bit to see what the henshin could change about him. He began with the eyes, knowing hers where crystal blue while in uniform. Yet, watching himself transform the mask completely obliterated his eyes, so that became a moot point. He moved on to hair, which also proved negligible as he wore a top hat which made everything look dark anyway.

By the end of the night, his notebook had been demolished with thoughts scribbled down, erased and rewritten, then torn from the binding in frustration. So long as the mask stayed in place, the glamour was complete. Even he did not recognize himself as Mamoru except on an internal level. The outside view became hazy and indistinct the closer he looked. However, his height and weight remained the same no matter what he seemed to do.

The discovery prompted a rewarding cup of coffee, and about 4 more hours of work on list.

Mamoru walked quickly down the sidewalk in the early crisp air. A scarf tugged at his throat against the chill November air, the heavy weight of his backpack pressed firmly against him. He glanced once more through the neatly organized leaves of notebook paper as he walked, retracing his steps from the night before. It was important to look the problems directly in the face and systematically pick off the unlikely girls like disease ridden sheep in hard winter.

He had racked his brain all night long, setting the girls by the characteristics of his obsession into four major categories; personality (friendly and self sacrificing, he'd marked beside it), athletic ability (functional, yet not impressive), physical appearance (killer curves, somewhat short) and grace (or lack thereof). All of this had led him to the student directory of the college. He would start with there, and then move down to the junior college and high schools. She was likely to be similar in age, but the height would present a problem. The girls on the island tended to stay medium to short, which meant he had his job cut out for him.

He'd begun with each category marked clearly on the wall, then had filled in the space beneath with names of girls most represented by the characteristics. Many of them could have qualified for 2 or 3 out of 4, which automatically moved them toward the top of the master list. He had narrowed down a few names already, and since the athletic ability was the first, and easiest to start with, he'd begun at the gym.

Hiromi was often referred to as the best tennis player on campus. She was also, currently, first on his list of possible suspects. According to recent internet activity, she frequented this particular gym around 6:45 every morning before class.

He checked his watch quietly outside the door. It was 6:42, and several minutes before Motoki would get there still. Perfect. His friend would have to get changed before they could begin, giving Mamoru a little bit of time to scope out the scene without being suspicious, not to mention he could test the arm curl machine for Moon's weight while he was there.

It was quiet this morning, only a few other people had bothered to get up as early as he did. Thankfully, one of them was Hakaru Hiromi, number 1 with a 67% likelihood of a match. She stood about 5 foot 4 with long, lean limbs and an easygoing smile. Many people would say she was quiet and silly, with a strange sense of humor and no sense of fashion. Everyone tended to like her, despite the fact. She was strong, smart enough, and on occasion had shown a tendency to be less that graceful. They'd made her captain of the tennis team two years running and had been a member of his fan club for 4.

Luckily for him, by the time he changed and locked the book bag away she was working on pectorals, and the arm curl lay directly to her right. He couldn't help the answering grin tugging at his mouth.

"Ohiyo, Hiromi-san."

She glanced sideways, a shy smile on her face.

"Ohiyo, Chiba-san." He bent, glancing at the scales curiously. He'd lifted Moon from danger more times than could be counted, and could roughly guess at the amount of pressure. She had to weigh at least 100 pounds, otherwise she'd be skin and bones. It didn't account for muscle, but he had plenty of time to tinker this morning.

"How are classes going?" he began, watching her out of the corner of his eye. He didn't remember the last conversation they'd had, it was too far back.

"They're good. My boyfriend's a senior in the same field, so he helps a lot." She stared forward as she spoke, obviously counting reps in her head as she did. He couldn't help but note the underlying brush off she'd given him. It was something Moon would do, he was sure.

"Oh? What field is that exactly?" this weight was very close, but he had to test on either side of it to be sure.

"Architecture. How about you?" He grimaced, 110 was probably a bit too much. Oh well, training with it would make future rescues all the easier. He kept that weight for this workout at least, and it would help later on with the list.

"Business, and its fine."

Silence reigned for a few moments. Mamoru racked his brain to something he could manipulate the conversation into. But how much did he honestly know about her interests? Was his Senshi really an architecture nut? It didn't seem terribly likely, that field was challenging and required a lot of late nights. It was not a good combination with her nocturnal activities.

"Can you believe that?" she muttered, pausing long enough to grab a towel. "I don't understand what's going on. 2 years ago, we'd never even heard of these things, and now they're attacking every few weeks. It creeps me out."

Confused, wondering eyes fell on the TV mounted on the opposite wall. Someone had stumbled over their battle ground from last night and found one of the weapons it had used. Looked like Mercury's blood was still on it, but of course the newscaster wouldn't know that. They hypothesized it had gotten one of the Senshi anyway, since there hadn't been any hospital admittances related to the fight.

He wondered suddenly if DNA testing was an option in the future. Of course, that would mean samples of all the Senshi so they could differentiate, and even then it wouldn't tie them down to actual civilians unless they gave samples too. It was another dead end, but at least it hadn't taken forever to get to.

"Ever been in one of those attacks?" he asked offhand, realizing first that he hadn't remembered to count reps, and second that his muscles were starting to burn.

"Hai. 8 months ago on the tennis field. I don't even want to think of what would have happened if the Senshi weren't there."

He tried to remember that attack in particular. At night, he was sure, down in the arena area in the tennis courts. Moon had been trapped in a giant tennis ball when he arrived, bouncing around rather humorously and wailing like a child. They hadn't had their little spat yet; it would have been almost 2 months prior.

"Did you get to meet any of them?" He did 5 more reps before his arms started to give under the pressure. The pain distracted him, kept him focused on the workout externally. But he watched for any telltale signs of acknowledgment from her. She gave none.

"Hai, Sailor Moon. She helped me up after it was all over. She and Tuxedo Kamen were the only two to show that night. They were probably on a date nearby or something." Mamoru grunted irritably. "They are such a cute couple." She smiled as she said it, no hint of bitterness or longing. Interesting, either she was a very good actress, or she really wasn't the famed superhero.

"Couple, hu? What makes you think they're even together?" he switched directions, grunting with the effort it took to pull that much weight from behind. Instead of fighting it, he turned and adjusted the weight downward.

"Everyone knows they're dating, come on Chiba-san." He couldn't help but grunt noncommittally and continue on. This girl was too emotionally detached from the situation; she seemed to talk about it like a fairytale instead of a heart-crushing reality. Moon's views were obvious on the subject. Given current answers, he would have to assume Hiromi was not, in fact, the one he was looking for. Not to mention she had almost no bust at all in the workout bra. And she seemed a smidge tall when she stood up.

"Nice talking to you, Chiba-san. Good luck with your future testing." She was walking away, and he felt no real need to follow.

"Hai, you as well." The answer was noncommittal, almost automatic as he thought. Was there a way to narrow down a major as well, given hours of operation? Probably not, since the Youma didn't exactly have timed attacks. But maybe he could move those with a greater workload down a bit in priority, as she would probably not be doing well if she was in one. After all, she wasn't the most self motivated girl he'd ever met, and was well known to be a crybaby under stress.

It hadn't worked out as well as he'd hoped, but some part of that must have already known it since he wasn't particularly heartbroken. Still, he decided, he'd watch her just to be safe. The boyfriend, if he was real, would be the true disqualifier. Moon would never even bother with another guy for how messed up she was about him. That thought brought another tiny smile. Good, no one else was allowed to even touch her.

"I see you were hitting on Hiromi-san." Shock rippled through him at the sudden appearance of blond hair and mischievous green eyes. The weights dropped automatically as Motoki placed one finger on the side of his nose. "Not interested in superheroes anymore?"

"Motoki-kun." Mamoru shot him a warning glance before lifting the weights once more.

"Yeah, I'd be looking elsewhere if one of them hit me too. Abusive little buggers." The blond continued, hardly missing a beat.

"Motoki." He warned again, trying to focus on anything else. His friend was obviously way too comfortable with the subject.

"You know the really freaky thing is some people actually come back for more after that. It's like they enjoy pain. Weirdoes." By now, the evil grin reached 'world domination' status. Fists tightened in quiet anger in the face of Loki himself.

"I'm going to punch you."

Motoki grinned in conquest, knowing he'd hit the mark spot on.

"We'll still be besties."

The affirmation eased tensions, releasing the dark man from his trance. He shook his head, disgusted sometimes with the choice of best friends. Really, who would want to hang out with someone who did nothing but point out the fact you were a fool sometimes?

"You know, I couldn't help but notice she's a short klutzy blond."

-Or someone who could see right through you.

"…I hate you."

Weeks passed, cold air grew progressively colder as the seasons changed. Fallen leaves gave way to snow and ice, the wind burned instead of howled and night became crystalline instead of haunting. The days shortened, as they did each year, the sun dimmed low in the heavens.

The list dwindled and rebuilt itself; names no longer belonged to faces. Every day, it seemed, the numbers shifted, prowled the back of his mind like a starving jaguar ready to strike. No one had the same effect as the slayer from Halloween. To be honest, he'd had to pump himself up for each conversation so far, all for nothing. He was beginning to think her disguise involved men's clothing.

To top it off, the maddening Senshi had been consistent in holding Moon back to the very last moment, thus spreading his chance of being there thin as tissue paper. Two more rainbow crystals had been unearthed, each side winning one more of the tokens. Both nights, he'd been visited with dreams of the Princess, and both nights it had left him restless and irritable. He was behind; fighting to catch up and yet could not.

Luckily, school work could now be focused on. With the presentation of the list came better time management, which meant he could finally prioritize. It was difficult to get her out of his head still; especially during long study hours. It was functional for now. Not to mention the fact that every single conversation he'd had with each of the girls did nothing but cement them back into the background.

The only problem was overly-concerned professors, who felt they had to take time from his schedule outside of class. Just because it was December and quickly closing in on finals did not mean they had a right to make his life more difficult than they had to. He glanced at the note scribbled hastily across one of his papers before hoisting himself out of the chair. He came down the steps leisurely, flinging his winter coat over one shoulder. Professor Yatsuki was not known to waste words with students, so this meeting had to at least be somewhat important.

"Chiba-san, I have an extra credit assignment for you." Silvery grey hair bobbed upward just long enough for spectacles to flash before returning downward. Mamoru waited while the last of the papers were shuffled together. "I've been asked to teach a special class for youngsters in the area for credit with the local school systems, but I don't have time for it. I know your grades have been suffering lately, so I thought you might like the chance to get them back up."

Heavy blue eyes closed, wishing they could roll blatantly. He wanted Mamoru –of all people- to teach a class to youngsters? He couldn't even stand talking to them for the most part. Just look at him and Odango-brain!

"I have a 3.8 though."

"Exactly," the spectacles were fumbled with unsteady hands as the old man nodded, "you're usually sitting at 4.1 at this point in the semester. I have a reading curriculum set up, and they'll have to do a few paper assignments as well. Are you interested or not?"

No curriculum to plan out, at least that was something. Of course normally it would be a breeze to dedicate a little bit of time each week teaching underclassmen, but 'youngsters' implied kids, so he assumed it wouldn't exactly be college level reading. He also had the search for Moon to worry about, and that took a good chunk out of his days.

"Can I ask someone to do the grading?" He began, knowing already the answer would be yes. He had to be the best in all his classes, and this semester was not turning out the way he had originally hoped it would. "I don't currently have time with my workload."

"Yes, that's fine. But the final grade will come from you, and you'll answer to me. I would like a 5 page reflection paper on your view of self, as well as a detailed teaching plan. The course is twelve weeks long, from January to April, one class a week. Your subject is to know one's self through literature. Set up times with the Juuban school administrator by the end of this week."

"Hai."

Mamoru was not a happy man on arriving back at his apartment. It looked like his poor, unoffending door had taken quite the beating from those love crazed girls. Stacked nearly to his hip and sprawling four feet in either directed were tons of Christmas presents. Disbelieving navy blue eyes rolled heavenward as he hefted his shoulder pack to the ground and dug in his pants for the keys. Now he was going to have to dig this mess out and he was tired.

Maybe the worst thought of all, though, was the fact that one of them might be from his little minx, which meant he would have to go through every one individually. Groaning, he slammed his head against the dark wood in frustration. WHY did she have to make this so difficult? Why couldn't she just be a good little girl and tell him her secret identity? It was only fair, he reasoned to himself, since he'd given his without any objections.

One hand touched his nose as he winced internally. Well, she had given hers…but that didn't matter. All he had to do was dig through mountains of worthless trash to find the one present she would get him. There was no doubt in his mind that the very moment he saw whatever it was, he would know exactly whom it was from. Then, in a perfect world, it would be conveniently labeled, he'd chase her down _tonight_ and simply pin the girl to a wall for about…an hour or so. The night or a week wouldn't be too bad either; he amended with a wicked little chuckle.

Sorting through the mountain took a lot longer that it normally would have. Mamoru was meticulous with his phone book and college directory, marking off the impossibilities, the improbabilities, and the wackoes. The regulars, of course, were always there with their 'perfect' gifts which usually consisted of chocolate, replacement jackets for the green one that had mysteriously gone missing a few weeks back, a few interesting looking textbooks, coffee, and an incredibly fancy ballpoint pen.

He carefully filed away all the things he could actually use without being seen (lest by seeing their present in use, said girl would assume he was interested) and tossed everything else in a pile. The jackets and such would be returned for cash, the chocolates would go in his stash by the bed, the coffee in the cupboard, and the pen would never leave the apartment. After all of that was said and done, he turned to the weird presents.

One had been a fruit basket (someone from his health class, as said the card) random strawberry things, which were the most disgusting sweets he'd ever tried, various cds and electronics, and a box filled with lacy underwear.

"That…is just wrong." He muttered determinedly as the raunchy note was quickly stuffed back in the package and the whole thing tossed into the fireplace. After all of that work and nothing had stood out as something she would get him. He suddenly felt very weak and tired as he slouched against the stone, feeling the heat burn into his face a little. It...it would have been really nice to get something from her… But then, he hadn't done the same in return had he?

Sighing in thought and exhaustion, he turned from the roaring flames to fix himself some coffee.

Something glittering silver caught his eye in the moonlight. Despite the bitter cold threatening him from the other side of the crystal barrier, Mamoru reached forward to slide the door open. Chilling December air frosted across his skin as he stepped onto the snow covered patio in curiosity. Across the grey and black sky floated the silvery feathers of snow, so big and fluffy they could almost be confused for pillow stuffing. The low din of city traffic was muffled beneath the soft blanket of ivory, giving a perfect ambiance to the gentle feeling that surged in his chest.

There, laying in all its sweet glory, was a long stemmed white rose perched on the snow coated railing. He was almost afraid to touch the precious object lest through his mortal hands it would vanish or turn to dust beneath his grasp. A happy grin broke the night-long scowl as the tip of his finger brushed against the petals. His heart thrummed once, hard, as he swallowed. That had to be what her lips felt like. Down his fingers trailed, amazed at how unbelievably long the stem was…like her body…. Crisscrossing the curved green shaft lay the jagged daggers of her sharp tongue, and wound between the soft, heart-shaped green leaves a navy blue ribbon. He touched it curiously, wondering at how such a girly gift could make him feel so warm in the cool December night.

As if reaching for her, his fingers wrapped around the crisp emerald stem and he lifted the soft silvery-white head to his lips. Almost as if the flower were her flesh, already cooled by the biting winter cold, he kissed the petals till they warmed and grinned impishly into the night. She was close, maybe watching him through dark blue eyes in the cover of night, maybe to see if he would accept such a wildly inappropriate gift for someone like him. The thought caused his fingers to close slightly tighter around the strong, fresh stem.

I will take you, he thought, I will bring you out of the cold…

With slow, deliberate movements lest she be too far away to notice, he kissed the perfect white head and turned to disappear into the apartment.

Two buildings down, there was a heavy clonk of binoculars on stone. She rubbed gingerly at one arm, not entirely sure what she'd done at all. It had come over a long period of time, weeks in fact. She knew she had to get him something, she knew he'd been alone for a long time, and had been searching for her. The idea of the rose had been a bit of a surprise; almost as if she'd known exactly what she would give him and it had just taken the rest of her time to catch up.

Strange how she'd found it in her subspace pocket this afternoon during training. It was just a white rose. Nothing special.

She turned to go, breath misting in the cold December air. What on earth had possessed her to do something so childish? She had raced across the city from Hikawa shrine, transformed, bounded up 11 flights of fire escape just to give that stupid flower to him, of all people. He could only think she was completely retarded. No, really. This entire thing was like a bad joke. She should have been home hours ago. She should have at least called to say she'd be gone. Her mother was probably having a heart attack right now, and her father had probably already called the cops.

Amazing how parents held no faith at all in their young to be able to defend themselves.

Mamoru filled a pitcher with lukewarm water and placed the flower gently inside. He'd have to go get something a little better suited tomorrow, but for tonight it would do. It was the most pure white he'd ever seen before, the bud blossoming with tiny pursed lips. Once again, his fingers trailed along the shiny navy ribbon tied just below the petals. Why this gift? Why would she give him something he could possibly have made himself? And why leave it in the snow the way she had? Wasn't she afraid of it wilting? Why not leave it in front of his door, like the other girls had?

But Sailor Moon was not at all like other girls, he had to remember that. Everything she did had some deeper meaning.

"Serenity…" he breathed against her neck, fingers trailing along her soft shoulder. She shivered, both with excitement and fear. Her eyes trailed from the fire, clashing against orbs the color of the forbidden planet. Her knees felt weak just being in his presence, just feeling his touch smooth along her arm. "Come with me."

Her eyes opened wide in surprise at his brash invitation, turning fully her body to view the Earth's High Prince. He wore no battle armor tonight, no weapon save the broadsword strapped loosely to his trim waist. The fine-spun burgundy shirt flowed against his heavily muscled chest, black breaches loose against his thighs. Serenity fought to gain control of her rapid heartbeat, and lost at the gentle smile in his eyes.

"Marry me. Now. Tonight." His fingers sought her hand, raised it to his lips as he spoke. She felt a million emotions surging through her; desire, longing, fear, shame…hope…. They had never become physical lovers, always stopped short due to shame for their respective worlds, for breaking a heavenly law. The betrayal would choke them at every turn, making something that should have been perfect into a nightmare. But here he was now, the silent promise eminent in his soft eyes. She fought all of these strange feelings, warred against logic and timing. Her body trembled beneath his touch, ached for him…

"Are you mad?" She whispered finally, eyes hardening in determination. "In 24 hours, our worlds will tear each other apart! They are mobilizing even as we speak, and you come to taunt me with a proposal against their wishes?"

He quickly wrapped both arms around her stiff, trembling frame and held her close. It was true. The high generals of his army met right now with his father to discuss tactics and plan for the coming war. It was loyalty to his family and his country alone that kept such secrets safe. He didn't dare reveal them, and she under similar circumstances did not ask. It was treason, the whole affair, yet they could neither help themselves nor their respective worlds.

"I've spoken with Chronos." He began quietly; afraid the news would scare her. "The Fates have decreed our death sentence. We will not survive the battle, and I greatly doubt anyone else will either."

She froze, mouth parted in a silent scream of agony as her fingers clutched his shirt. Tears streamed from her silvery eyes to darken the finely spun cloth before her near black. The shuddering breath rasped against her throat, not for her own fate, but for the life of her beloved Endymion…. Was it such a terrible crime? To love a man so much that your soul could burst with the feeling? Was it so distasteful to want a tiny piece of happiness in a quickly dying world?

"We swore that no one would ever touch our hearts if not each other." His voice was thick as her tears, feeling her sob against his chest in grief. "If we do survive; if the sentence is revoked, we will never see one another again. And if we are to sink to the eternal depths of the river Styx, I would do it knowing we had done everything with honor; that we have neither lied nor allowed to pass that which has been forbidden." He pulled away, just enough to cup her face, wipe at the tears beating a path across the porcelain skin. "I will never love another. But I will love the first."

Serenity couldn't help feeling the same sense of injustice as he. After all, young Eros had been allowed his Psyche, and Dionysus the sweet Ariadne…why couldn't she have her mortal lover as well? Were the Fates so strongly against such a pairing that they would destroy the known worlds should they dare to justify their love? She looked up at him, already knowing the contours of his face. They had long ago been carved into her heart by gentle hands, by soft words.

"Should we have been any other two," he whispered softly, tasting her salty lips against his, "we would have been married long ago, and perhaps had a child by now." His fingers stroked the soft skin of her long neck, eyes sure and steady against hers. "Do you love me?" he asked finally, patient and confident in the reply that was sure to come.

"Yes." She breathed without hesitance. He should never have doubted, having known how deeply she did love him. After all, Serenity was well known for her unshakable loyalty to the Gods, having been highly favored to nearly all of them since the beginning. And those affections could not bear to match how she felt for her sweet Terran Prince, that she would defy even Them to have him.

"And will you trust me?" he probed again, fingers trailing from her hair to her cinched waist. She could not help the shudder of pleasure, of excitement gripping her at the prospect of leaving with him.

"Yes." Again, she answered swiftly to his question, fingers tightening in his shirt. He smiled, lifting a lock of silver hair to his lips.

"Then come."

Mamoru woke in a cold sweat, limbs and joints aching as if he'd been beaten. The dreams came with more force every day; he could still feel the silk of her hair, the salty taste of her lips. This damn princess was seriously cutting into the sleep schedule around here, and it was pissing him off. Body trembling and burning in pain, he slipped out from beneath the heavy covers and into the kitchen without bothering to turn on the light. He soon found there was no need for it anyway.

The rose she had given him was not of this world. In the cloaking shade of midnight, it burned dimly with silvery light, dividing the darkness from it, chasing away the shadows. The bud, in all its glory, glittered like the newly risen moon in the sky, casting pale fingers across the counters, across his face.

He came forward cautiously; suddenly aware of the princely gift she had given him. The stem had put down roots in the night; the flower had righted itself to stand perfectly erect in the large pitcher. Gently, he reached forward to touch the glistening bud with curious fingers.

It still gave like the swaying of a stem unbroken, but the touch of its petals shot a simmering warmth down the length of his arm, straight through his soul.

And stopped.

Usagi gasped and lurched upward in bed. She could have sworn someone else was in the room. It was midnight on Christmas Eve, and she still felt the ghost of fingers against her jaw. The otherworldly feeling caused a shiver to erupt down her spine as she reached up with tentative fingers. There was nothing there, but the pressure persisted a few moments more despite the fact. Gooseflesh burst across her skin at the feeling, causing the only sane reaction possible.

She screamed.


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

The cold winter air laughed soft petals of snow to the ground, their calm touches coating the world in a soft pillow. Childish giggles filled the muffled air, lighting the cool city like the singing of angels. The rain of feathery snow lay virtually untouched in the streets. Snowmen walked their dogs from the front yard, the joyful tinkle of toys could be heard as faint chorus, and thick smoke drifted from each chimney. All the world was good and bright, and every face held a smile.

"O! Shingo-baka! Don't go running off without me!" Stiff fingers fumbled helplessly with the laces, tugging and turning and grumbling. Usagi huffed a bit in the cold air and muttered under her breath. If it weren't for the fact the whole family just _had_ to go ice skating today, she'd be still sitting at home sipping hot cocoa and reading manga. It was Christmas day for crying out loud! It shouldn't be spent out on the ice where you could trip and decapitate yourself!

Well, her family didn't really see it that way, but this _was_ Usagi of all people. She couldn't help but smile a little at the thought. Giddy blue eyes turned toward the hot chocolate at her side. The thick, peppermint spiked brew slid down her throat in slow motion. Oh, this had to be heaven.

The cold snowfall was piling up around the edges of the rink, much like a blanket. The soft pillow of the snow looked so comfortable. The ache of muscle strain wasn't so bad these days, but she was tired. The disembodying sensation of hands against her face persisted, and she caught herself more than once today whipping around in hopes to see who it was. Gooseflesh mottled across her pale skin at the thought.

"Odango-baka! I'm skating circles around you!" Shingo taunted from the other side, playfully making faces. The sight should have irritated her since she hadn't slept much; instead it helped to lighten the mood.

"Come on, Usagi-chan! Don't be such a grouch!" Ikuko called happily, clinging to Kenji's arm as she waved.

She couldn't help but smile at her family as she finished tying. It was no secret she sucked at these kinds of things, but the fact that it was her family made it more fun. Shingo could be a brat sometimes, and her parents could be pretty protective, but that was ok. They were what made it all worth it in the end. They were the some of the only people who loved her anyway, even though she was imperfect.

The first attempts proved nearly fatal as she slid cautiously out onto the ice. So far, so good, she coached herself into the second step. Immediately, the skate slid out from beneath her back leg, and the world was made of painful, face-flattening ice. Shingo's laughter echoed even from the other side of the rink as she rolled tiredly to her side. One hand reached up gingerly to rub at her nose. Everything happened far away, in a fog of forgetfulness. Cold fingers crept unconsciously down to her cheek.

Weak and exhausted, she climbed up the wall beside her. It was difficult to keep both skates equally on the ice as she went. A cool wind blew quickly around her, nearly causing another accident as it went. It took a moment to steady herself again, and calm the jumbled nerves slowly coiling in the pit of her stomach. Another slip like that and she'd be dealing with a broken nose as well.

"Let's go home for dinner right after this, ne Usagi-chan? It'll warm you up!" Ikuko's warm eyes sparkled, and Usagi felt a little lighter. Christmas day skating was a family tradition, carried on from her mom's family. Even her dad wasn't too terribly fond of it, but Usagi could see even in that little act the love he felt for his wife.

"Hai!"

They played for an hour or two, her nose felt like it was going to fall off in the cold, and her butt had been landed on more times than she wanted to admit. But it was fun to see the family together, and it was nice not to think about anything else going on in her life. It was nice to just be a kid.

The unexpected came as her family was tying shoes instead of skates, and she was working her way along the wall again to get out.

Youma exploded from nothing, bursting bits of ice and cement in every direction as several of them marched forward. Usagi flew backward, connecting with the low wall and spiraling over to land in a heap. Shingo screamed somewhere far away. Everything felt muffled and dank. She coughed, hardly feeling the motion in her own throat. Frozen, fumbling fingers dove toward the zipper of her coat, scraping uselessly against the metal. She had to get to the broach quickly, before the Youma hurt anyone.

One cackled from the other side of the low wall, roaring in challenge as large metal claws scraped and slid across rock and ice. Usagi glanced over, taking a few moments to try to remember what it looked like. There were about twelve altogether. The girls were too far away for them to be of any real help for a while. She'd have to keep them distracted until the Senshi could get there. Whispering hopefully, begging that her communicator was still functioning, she called the girls on the broad wave.

Mamoru set his coffee cup down on the counter, ignoring the glaring eyes of the attendant. The downtown area seemed dead on Christmas. He'd never been down here during the day, and it was safe to assume no one else did either.

"Hurry up, man, I gotta get home. It's Christmas!" Mamoru nodded, not bothering to glance up as he did.

"Atsuo, what is your current GPA?" He asked quietly, eyes grazing the rows before him. The other man huffed and answered, almost ashamed.

"3.4."

Once more, Mamoru nodded, flicking a bit of dust from the glass counter. It was annoying to see the place hadn't been cleaned up from the day before.

"And who helped you with that?"

There was silence for a moment. Dark blue eyes rested on one piece in particular, shiny black and glittering silver. Interesting, he would have to remember that one if nothing else became apparent.

"You, but everyone knows you don't ask a lot of favors –especially not on Christmas." Atsuo's problem, Mamoru decided, was that he lacked the ability to adapt to certain situations. This had caused problems from the beginning, with the tutoring. But then, the dark man had only signed up for the brownie points it would gain him after college.

"This year I needed one." It was the only answer the underclassman would get. Brown eyes rolled in silent irritation.

"Why can't you get your girlfriend something on a regular business day?" he asked, now exasperated beyond repair.

"I was being selfish." Came the calm, somewhat self-mocking answer.

"Gee, that's a shock." It was hardly more than a whisper, laced with spite and frustration. Mamoru blinked.

"Excuse me?" he began to ask. Chilling fingers dug directly into his heart, behind his eyes. Cold sweat broke heavily across his skin at the feeling. She needed him, and he was well out of time to be doing this. "That one, and hurry please."

"Oh, now you want to hurry about it…." The clerk all but dripped loathing now and reached for the keys

"Atsuo? Shut up."

Even as the doors slid closed, he could hear the muttering.

No fan girls meant he could transform wherever the hell he liked, and that meant closest ally, followed quickly by rooftops. He should have expected the Dark Kingdom to attack on a holiday, though for some reason he figured they'd do it yesterday since everyone was out and about. Today most people would be in their homes in any case. The link yanked at him hard, all but dragging him toward the park in urgency. Moon had been held back till the end for months now, and if the fight was still going that meant one thing: really big nasty demon.

He scanned the area quickly once he'd landed, noting a small army of Youma ranging around just outside the rink to the left. None of the Senshi were here, at least other than Moon. There was a flash of red boot, a heavy grunt of pain, and one toppled back from the group to land in a heave on the ground. Damn, he'd stayed too long at that shop, should have ran out of there the moment he felt her transform. She was surrounded, outnumbered, and without the other Senshi, she had no real protection.

Something broke the ranks of the enemy, sent a handful of scaly limbs flying through the winter air and through the wall across the other side. One or two growled from the line, and a golden disk erupted out of another. It fell, hardly making a sound, and once again Tuxedo Kamen whistled in amazement. Bloodied, obviously standing alone, Moon launched into a flying roundhouse that sent the next spinning into pavement and snow.

One hand whipped out, gripping a monster by the neck before ramming him expertly against a knee. The same leg shot out backward to slam a screaming heel kick into the slathering Youma behind. It dropped the battle axe held above her head; fingers limp beneath the pressure of the blow. The tiara all but disappeared from her brow, blazing freely in one hand as she spun to cleave the head free. She flipped, easily clearing the height of another and landing with battle axe in the other hand.

The tiara hummed threateningly. Two Youma slid upward from the dirt, grunting with the effort it took to stand again, three others appeared behind her. Sailor Moon stood waiting, dropping low into tiger stance with tiara held at arm's length from her body. The head of her axe rested easily against the ground, but she was tense, ready to leap the second they came at her. Tuxedo Kamen stood frozen, both in awe and fear.

The calm, perfectly confident warrior before him could have been anyone but the woman he loved. She was strong, he was more than willing to admit that, and she was determined; but this was not a girl against the world, this was a woman. The sudden aching thrill of desire hit like a kick to the crotch, nearly sending the man to his knees. Sweat froze on his brow, his eyes strained to take in every square inch of her from where he stood. She was perfect.

She was perfect. His knees trembled a little at the thought of having her. Moon was alert, dangerous even. Heady purple blood stained her white gloves in the dim light, the wicked battleaxe turned the snow grey and black. He could almost hear the steady, rhythmic breathing even from here. She was perfect.

They came from all sides at once, weapons glinting wickedly. Somewhere far away behind the scene, Senshi were running toward them. But it was without hope. They were too far away to stop what was going to happen. Moonlight turning the scene to liquid silver as all weapons were brought to hand. She screamed.

The battle axe flailed out and around, knocking away swords as it went. Her body dropped low, repeating the action as the Youma screamed in agony. The first few around her exploded, blowout knocking the others back. She swept to her feet again, side-stepping into a low horse stance and ramming the tiara directly into one's stomach.

Tuxedo Kamen shook himself free of the stupor as the tiara flared to slice another straight down the middle. Both halves exploded into dust, and she leapt spinning sideways through the air to carve the last twice through. He didn't even have time to cover the distance between them before the ash whipped away in the cold winter wind.

Wind whipped fiercely around her as the storm picked up. Snow leapt in a flying dance as she turned toward the early rising moon. Her form was hazy and indistinct. The cold chilled the deepest pit of his soul as she turned to look over one shoulder at the approaching Senshi. Something about her, it was like déjà vu, like he could see her doing just exactly that gesture a million times over in the same instant.

The weakness of his knees quickly gave way as he slid from his place of concealment. Even through the pounding of his blood, the warped and confused thoughts muddling his brain, he knew. No more games between them. Not tonight.

A thrill of fierce pride warmed her from the inside out. She was breathing heavily, trying not to put too much pressure on her ankle. It ached after that heel kick, and she might have done something rather stupid by doing that. Rei would probably kick her butt for being so sloppy. And they hadn't covered axe training; it wasn't something you ran into. Part of her hoped her friend had not seen any of that; the other was jumping up and down like a child.

Blond hair whisked out as she turned to face the firing squad. She'd taken on a whole rank of demons without any help from anyone, and the overprotective Senshi probably would have a bit to say about that. They came racing up, out of breath and wide eyed.

"Yeah Moon! Right on!" At Jupiter's outburst, Mercury giggled good-naturedly and nodded her approval. Mars shrugged, though the tiny smile at the corner of her mouth was enough to hint otherwise. Usagi allowed the warmth in her chest grow a little, knowing that all those hours of training were finally paying off. She had worked so unbelievably hard the past few months with no success…until now anyway. A glowing smile spread across her winter-frozen mouth.

"Did you freakin' see that wicked flip she did! That was so bitc…"

An arm snaked deftly around her hips a moment later, the shriek dying beneath the muzzle of cool fabric and weight. Horror gurgled up from her stomach as she fought against the iron-strong bonds, just in time to feel the teasing warmth of breath against her frigid neck and a strong body at her back.

"Excuse us." Her wide, terrified eyes begged the startled Senshi to act. Too late, the ground ripped suddenly from beneath her. Their startled cries were instantly muffled as the velvet black curtain of his cloak blot out the night.

When the inky darkness receded once more, Sailor Moon gasped in a breath of cold relief. Her eyes swam in a sea of black and white, accented in a crimson tide of softly falling rose petals. The picturesque black sky shimmered in hosts of twinkling stars that peaked curiously through the dead skeleton fingers of the trees surrounding her. She shivered against the cool feeling of the forest glade, wondering at the harsh beauty surrounding her. Jagged ice formations dripped from low bending branches; shattered against the wetly gleaming rocks and littered the ground like broken diamonds. What would probably be a stream once winter released her death-grip ran along the length of the small glen, empty and forlorn beneath the silvery moonlight.

Despite the cold, uncaring exterior coated in snow and ice, the falling rose petals added a livid flash of heart, and caused a tiny smile to inch at the corner of her mouth. Cold, yes; strange and other worldly, definitely; but this glen was beautiful despite it all. For some reason, it's subtle blend of alarming loneliness and the gentle lighting of a silvery moon would have charmed her, even had the roses not been present.

Blazing warmth spread throughout her body from behind, a single white fist hovered before her face to blot out the darkened sky. The gentle flush of heat against her neck and the sweet sound of his breathing broke the heavy silence of the glen. She tried to flinch away from him, but one glance at her stiff feet proved the act impossible. The legendary red boots were stuck solidly to the frozen earth, courtesy of hundreds of impossibly thick rose vines. Upon further inspection, she realized that the offending material wrapped far up her legs and held both hands hostage behind her back. A sudden thrill of fear gripped her lungs as she realized there would be no escape this time.

"Merry Christmas, Moon." He murmured directly into her ear, causing a thrill of excited pleasure to ripple across her skin. The fist before her eyes flinched, sending a waterfall of silver tumbling downward. There, dangling at the end of a slim silver chain lay a shard of night, trapped beneath a twirling vine of some kind. Her eyes focused clearly on the hard reflective sides shattered by moonlight. It was a rock of purest black, long and star-cut with two pointed tips, wrapped in what appeared to be super thin tree branches not unlike the ones above her head.

"It's not as perfect as yours was, but it will have to do for now." The heavy weight settled into the hollow of her throat as he quickly clasped it to her neck. Once the slack had been released from his hands, the cool piece slid neatly down her front and lodged itself just below the neckline of her fuku. He's claiming me like some eternal bride, she thought dizzily, wondering if he planned on sucking the blood from her neck.

No more smutty romances for her, she determined resolutely; especially not starring smolderingly hot men in black.

"So…why am I tied up?" she tried to sound valiant, even amused at the situation, but her voice squeaked and crackled in her nervousness. He chuckled at the obvious bravado, running the tips of his fingers along her arms from behind. Millions of little butterfly sensations tumbled through her system. Her eyes closed involuntarily in the aftermath; she'd never been touched like that in her life! And, once he found out who she was, he'd….

Both eyes snapped back open at the thought and her resolution returned. All of this was for Sailor Moon, _not_ Usagi. Funny, how easy it was to brush off his advances when looked at in that light; all she had to do was remember the look in his frozen eyes and the words he'd so hatefully spat at her in the arcade last June. The thought brought stinging tears to her eyes, but she forced them back down. Crying was _not_ an option right now. Pissed, however, was.

"You better not be seducing me." She hissed angrily, flinching her bound arms from his touch. He went quiet for a moment, obviously shocked at the molten rage dripping from her voice.

"For a woman so much in love with me, you sure hide it well." He mused in the silence, the muffled crunching of his shoes in snow reverberating from the empty landscape as he came into view. His soft lips were curled in a cynical smile that made her knees tremble despite her anger.

"I've had a lot of time to practice." She spat, shocking even herself with the intensity of her anger. One raven black eyebrow shot up curiously and he stepped forward to grip her face in his hands as a wicked smile split his handsome face.

"Would it be so terrible if I did?" He asked quietly. She didn't hesitate even in the slightest.

"Yes."

"Why?" He probed again, suddenly interested in her golden hair. He reached upward to finger a single golden bun thoughtfully, wondering what it must feel like through the gloves.

"Because you would be seducing her; not me." He paused in surprise, glancing down at her again as she continued. "If that was all you wanted, a nice little blow-up doll could do the trick. They might even sell them with red bows and a miniskirt if you know where to look."

Though he was disappointed that she wasn't melting at his every word and glance, a tiny swell of pride lit in his chest as he looked at her glowering face. No, Moon was not like the other women, she was a spitfire and knew how to deliver a blinding insult with the best of them. Damn, but that was just attractive! Not to mention the fact that she was one of the very few women who could probably kick his ass and make him enjoy it, too. His grin widened visibly, sparkling in the moonlight with mute appreciation.

"You have a very sharp little tongue, Ms. Moon. Let's put it to better use, shall we?" Her jaw dropped, almost as if it were inviting him to do just that.

"Don't you dare…!" Her sputtered rage was efficiently silenced mid sentence as warm, soft, _smooth_ lips caught against her mouth. Her angry cry suddenly sounded like a girlish whimper, the frantic straining against the vines at her back melted into a quiet shudder as his arms wrapped around her. The wobbliness of her knees no longer mattered, since as far as she could tell, she didn't have legs anymore. The battle was lost the moment he nibbled at her lower lip and deftly slid his tongue deep into her mouth.

Tuxedo Kamen felt her literally melt into his arms and couldn't help but smile against her. She could try to tell herself she could resist, but that meant nothing the second he actually touched her. He'd seen her reaction earlier and had grinned helplessly; glad to know he affected her equally well. Now, with her tiny body shivering against his, it just felt right. She tasted like Christmas; warm chocolate and cider, a hint of peppermint that sizzled in the cool winter air against his tongue. It was soft and inviting, made him think of the home he'd never had, made him think of all the things he could have through her.

The thought sprouted a new feeling, one that no longer rang as desire, or longing; it was deeper and softer. Her head tilted to the side effortlessly as the kisses deepened, her soft groan of desire like music in the otherwise silent night. He took a moment to wrap the cloak around her form. She murmured her thanks against his mouth between each gentle entanglement, her own moving against his more and more as her confidence grew.

The real fun began the second her shy little tongue flicked against his inner lip. At his grunt of approval, she pressed herself flush against him and caught his open mouth in wild abandon. His arms tightened around her, feeling the unbearable heat of her body, her searing tongue burning a path through his. His eyes rolled back in sheer pleasure, a deep-throated moan and a soft curse before she claimed him again, this time in complete control.

He had thought this kiss would be his way to prove superiority, his experience. But no, her intensity and fire no longer simmered behind cool glares and harsh words. It scorched him, tore through him with such ardor that it had to have been pent up for quite some time. And he surrendered himself to it, allowing the plants around her wrists and feet to shrivel back into the wintery earth.

His own white gloves were ripped off and he finally got a good long feel of her golden hair wrapped around every finger. Her skin was soft like her rose, body just as firm and youthful with a hint of muscle tone beneath the perfectly smooth skin. His fingers followed the line from her shoulders, down the curve of her back and across the ruffled skirt at her hips. Her hands quickly seeped into his coat, tore at his shirt, ripped little cuts into his neck and tangled demandingly in his hair. He returned the passion full force, lifting her tiny body to crush between his and a nearby tree. She gasped into his mouth, igniting the sizzling peppermint with frozen air and sending his senses reeling. His hands traced everywhere along her suit, searching, aching to find some sort of clasp, tugging and pulling till the bow at her back lay tangled in golden hair and snow.

Once the idea of somehow getting her out of the suit proved impossible, he simply pressed her harder into the tree, fingers tracing down to those perfect legs. His tongue lashed out in self defense, fighting against hers in earnest, wanting to make her feel everything she did to him. She was now practically wearing his tuxedo jacket, body shuddering from pent up energy rather than the cold, and her wicked, possessed little fingers had un-tucked the shirt to wander aimlessly across his bare chest and back.

And there were no clasps, no zippers. He mourned the thought painfully, all parts of him seething to have her. This time he bent, catching her mouth firmly against his, tongue tangling against hers and knowing…knowing he couldn't have her. Not tonight. It didn't ruin his efforts to return the pleasure she'd given for the past few minutes, though. Even knowing as he knew, he couldn't pull away, couldn't make himself stop. All he could do was give in and wait for her to take the next step. He only hoped she would take pity on them both and give in to the moment by detransforming, because anything short of that wouldn't work out. Her aching, frustrated mewl mirrored his feelings before her tongue burned a particularly hot little flick into his mouth and she pulled away again, her teeth biting into his lower lip as she went.

Mamoru cursed at the thrill of white-hot pain, the taste of his own blood. Forget all that talk; it was happening tonight even if he had to tear the suit from her body! Part of him wished he'd brought her somewhere a little more suitable, like the apartment. It was too late now, he surmised before leaning in for another hungry kiss. But she yanked herself back, this time in fear.

"Oh, Mamoru-san, I-I'm sorry…" she muttered, attempting to free her arms from his crisp white button-up. His eyes shot open, heavily drugged by her, to watch her adorably flushing face turn away from him in mute horror at her actions.

"You're…sorry?" he muttered in confusion before breaking out in rich, dark laughter. The hand at her waist detangled itself from the now ruined blue fabric and rose to his mouth. He burned and ached, hardly noting the fact that she'd drawn the blood that stood out against the moonlight on his fingertips. "I should be thanking you."

Her still tantalizingly warm body shuddered in attraction at the tone of his voice as his hand returned to her side. He drew in a deep breath, leaning wetly suckling kisses on her neck, marking her high enough that anyone could see it. She's mine, he all but howled to the world. Touch her and die.

Usagi couldn't help the groan, though she was quickly regaining her senses. She had just made out with her secret crush very intimately, in fact her body was still plastered along the length of him and pinned to a tree in the most compromising position she'd ever found herself in. And he still didn't know her name.

"Mamoru-san, we can't do this." She whispered quietly, almost afraid what his reaction would be. Her hands retracted from his jacket and hair as she tried again to pull herself free from him a second time. The unmoving braces of his arms didn't budge beneath her efforts as he chuckled into the hollow of her throat.

"Oh trust me, we can." His face rose into her vision, eyes slanted and dark with hunger. Glimmering wetly from his mouth, the blood she'd drawn; it reminded her sharply of her earlier thoughts of vampires and once again revived the sense of imprisonment. "If you don't like getting a little messy, you shouldn't have bit me, you flirt." Her hand caught his quickly moving lips, effectively stopping the next kiss.

"No, I mean we can't do this. I'm not ready, and you don't even know who I am." His disbelief showed visibly despite the dim lighting. One hand gripped her wrist from his mouth swiftly, though the other wouldn't allow her to budge as he kissed her tiny fingertips one by one.

"Tell me your name, and I'll know who to thank." His eyes were glittering with mischief as he leaned in close enough to brush against her mouth as he spoke. "And if you're kisses were any indication, you're more than ready." His soft kiss landed neatly on her cheek as she turned away.

"Stop, Mamoru-san. I'm not kidding." His body tensed at the guilty flush burning into her cheeks and he suddenly found himself breathing very slowly as the gears began to turn. Shock gradually crept onto his face as he stared at her in the silence.

"You're a virgin." Her impossibly thick eyelashes fluttered as her eyes focused anywhere but his accusing glare. A soft laugh of surprise and amusement issued from deep in his throat as the arms around her loosened a fraction. "I don't believe it. You've got to be kidding me! How old are you?"

Her eyelashes fluttered again, the blush deepening as she finally looked up at him. With her hair coated in red rose petals, her mouth flushed and full, her cheeks stained the most enchanting shade he'd ever seen in his life, he suddenly realized that the love of his life could be young. _Very _young. But that was impossible, because given her kisses, she had to be more experienced…

"Are you even legal?" She nodded hesitantly, but was now nearly glowing. He cursed rather fluently, knowing his little nighttime pleasure was at an abrupt end. Yes she was legal, but only barely. "Well who in the HELL taught you how to kiss then, damnit! I'm going to chase his little punk-ass down, thank him for training you up right, then slowly murder him!"

His enraged declaration would have been completely terrifying, given the stream of blood dribbling down his chin, but Usagi felt a little tickle in her gut and a smile beginning to tug at her mouth. She bit her lips to keep her amusement at bay, but it was hopeless. This whole situation was completely hopeless. A dark eyebrow rose in curiosity when he realized she was silently laughing at him through crystal clear eyes. The ridiculousness of his own outburst finally sunk in, and he found himself chuckling alongside her girlish giggles.

He pulled out the handkerchief in his breast pocket to wipe at the stream, amazed at just how hard she must have bit him. It was starting to throb now, and stung wickedly at the touch of silk. She quieted instantly, reaching upward to brush her fingertips along his hand and mouth.

"I am really sorry; I didn't mean to hurt you." She murmured, her tone serious and small as she deftly stole the handkerchief and began to wipe at his cut motherly. The soft feeling from before expanded in his chest and he found himself smiling at her warmly. It was a bit of a novel feeling, really, to have someone to take care of you. It was something he'd never had before.

"That feels a lot better when you do it." He whispered, aching to lean in for another kiss from her upturned little mouth. She looked like she was concentrating so hard not to hurt him, and seemed completely comfortable lying in his arms, pinned hard to a tree. She treated it almost as if it were second nature; and that bothered him a little bit. He was the kind of guy that ordered his textbooks in the wrapping; that kept his shoes in perfect order. He didn't like anyone else touching his things or leaving their mark.

"God, I am so sorry, you should go in and see if you need stitches or something…"

"How old are you?" he queried, hardly listening to her sage advice. Her fingers stilled against his mouth and she gulped. They were so close, he could feel the nervous tremble of her stomach against him, see the fluttering of each individual lash across her soft eyes. She looked away quickly, face reddening all over again.

"Too young for you." The words were bitter and cold, almost as if she were remembering them. He hooked her chin thoughtfully, noting the way her eyes glimmered with the beginnings of tears in the moonlight.

"You're legal, that's enough for me I think." The murmured response was lost to her as she ripped her face free to look away again. A silvery tear dripped free, quickly weighted to the snow below them to land with an inaudible little plop. The vision caused a tiny swelling of guilt to press against his chest, though he didn't understand the feeling.

"Ya, well, if only you knew who you were talking to, that opinion would change in an instant." Another soft little plop sounded though the mute darkness and her hand finally reached up to wipe away her shame. Mamoru was at a loss, not quite understanding if there was some sort of throw-back on the statement. She sniffled adorably, almost childishly, her eyes becoming red and swollen in the half light. It hit him then, just how soft and innocent she was, that she had probably never had such an intense moment with anyone before, and that he was pushing a very sensitive button.

"Sh, hey…hey, Moon, come on. Are you ok?" The awkwardness of the situation struck him; he'd never had a time in his life where he'd wanted to help a crying girl. He suddenly realized that he had no idea how to help her, how to make the crying stop. It was like she was…broken or something…and he just needed some glue to stick her back together. Right? He awkwardly ran his fingers across her face, wiping at a tear like he'd seen done in a movie somewhere.

"Don't, please…I…I just want to go home. Just home." She whispered brokenly, evading his fingers and pushing at his chest. He stepped back, ripping the cloak free to wrap around her. He honestly had no idea what to do. Partially panicked that he had somehow hurt the love of his life, he fought for any idea how to make it better.

"Hey, Moon, come on. I'll take you back to the city, k? I didn't mean to scare you or…hurt you…" he muttered awkwardly, suddenly feeling like a child. "Let me make it up to you, k?"

She rubbed tired hands across her face, feeling the heartache eat her alive. He was being so sweet. He had no idea what a lie this whole thing was, no idea what lay waiting on the other side. His fingers brushed her face again, lifting her swollen eyes to look at the waiting bundle in his hands.

The communicator was going crazy in her subspace pocket, and quickly began screaming the second he set her down outside the park. She could hardly look at him as she wiped at the tears streaming from her eyes. She felt like such a child. Who did that anyway while making out with their crush? She just blurted it out and he'd looked so…she didn't even know how to name that look. It made her feel like little red riding hood.

"Hai." She answered, fumbling with the weight in her other hand.

"Moon! What the _hell_ was that! We come rushing in to save your sorry…." Mars launched into her tirade the second the communication line opened up. Moon winced, glancing back at his dark form behind her.

"I'll leave you to it. Thank you for the present. And I'm sorry for scaring you." He gripped her cheek and pressed warm lips to her forehead. The gesture was sweet and endearing; she wanted very much to lose herself in it. Instead, he backed away and disappeared over the edge of the rooftop beside her. Once more, she fumbled with the weight of her present in one hand and began walking toward the arena. Mars voice continued somewhere in the background as she thought. The stone at her neck felt warm and pleasant against the skin, both objects a strange anchor to reality. She had just been kidnapped by the hottest man alive and given beautiful gifts…and she'd torn his lip open in return. Nice.

"…in the hospital. You better get your sorry butt down here right now! He goes in to have it set in 10 minutes!"

"Wait. What?" Usagi broke through, bringing the communicator up to her face. Rei looked furious, face flushed nearly red. She also looked really worried.

"I said Shingo broke his leg! Have you not been listening? You're parents at least were just knocked out, so they should come around tonight, but poor Shingo's down here crying for them and they're out and no one knows where you ended up –including us, I might add. We'll definitely talk about that later! Get. Your. Butt. Down. Here. Now."

"H-hai!"

Mamoru slid the porch door open slowly, not too worried about being seen tonight of all nights. The streets were empty; the other drapes across the alley were drawn on each window. He was alone in the world right now, and it no longer felt right. The unsettling knowledge he'd gained came as a bit of a shock. He walked directly to the other side of the room and ripped the list from the wall in frustration.

The past few months had been wasted efforts, none of the girls he'd chased down were around that age. He'd just assumed –she logically would have to be about his age. Anyone that young shouldn't have to fight. Anyone that young shouldn't be able to wear a miniskirt the way she did. It was such a waste of time to be looking for anyone he knew. It wasn't often that he talked to girls around high school age.

And none of that could erase the terrified, heartbroken look in her eyes once the subject had come up. What could he have possibly said to her that would cause a reaction like that? Surely even he wouldn't be that heartless to a young girl. He could think of a few faces, but hardly any names. She must really think he was a bastard.

Given her nature, it must have come as a shock. She was caring and loving, especially to children. Anytime they were in danger she stepped up her game to keep them safe. Often, after a fight, she would smile, laugh, and dance around in the rain. She really had seemed young in those moments. She had seemed carefree, and lighter than air.

Things had to change. The shocked, betrayed blue eyes stalked his every thought; every whimper burned the cornered of his memories. The words she'd used had been deliberate and powerful, words he could easily see himself saying. Yet to hear them repeated back was a riptide of grief and shame, too strong for him. The weight of it clung to his lungs and chest; sucked and tore until he fought for breath. He coughed, unable to help the reaction.

He was a bastard.

He'd never stopped to consider. Never bothered to wonder what she might want or need. She was so young, had never had anything before at all. He'd hunted her, like a wolf on a scrap of scent in the wind. No wonder she'd been scared and guarded, no wonder she questioned his motives.

Mamoru had always considered himself like the tall tower, proud and confident. He knew himself in ways others his age had not even begun to consider. He knew he could survive almost any situation, and had trained himself to do so. Others were like the wind; passing by at whatever speed they liked. No discipline, no pride to be had. To earn his respect, one had to pay the price and rise, story by story, strength of will alone, to reach the top. Few had done so. Few deserved that respect from him.

She had paid that price through nearly two years now; persisting and growing stronger every fight. Her last more than proved the point: she was his equal at least. But the other side of her, the caring, good natured side; he had no response to that. The closest relationship right now was that of Motoki, and frankly even that was often rocky.

She had grown stronger and improved herself for two years. He had not returned the favor.

Things definitely needed to change.


	10. Author's Notes

Right off the bat, I want to say that if you're like me, and you hate reading author's notes, SoulBound will be updated again next week. I'm going on vacation, so I'll actually have time to work on it. I didn't have any time at all this week, and my editor moved several states away so I've got to let her get her things settled before I send another chapter. Also, penguin shaped jelly beans are delicious. Just saying.

About SoulBound: You'll notice it's not a love at first sight, happy ending kind of story. Don't worry, the ending has already been planned and written, and you'll even like it. However, as far as the story goes, it really hinges on the characterization, which I tried to make as real to life as possible. A kid who grew up in an orphanage, was a model and suddenly came into money would be nothing short of morally bankrupt, selfish, and jaded. That's how Mamoru came about in my mind if you were to meet him on the street.

Likewise, Usagi never really had to fight for anything. She comes from a caring, well rounded family and has a good base of friends. In all honesty, she would start out a bit of a pushover. She wants to please everyone more than herself. I think that's why her and Mamoru's relationship completely fascinates me. It's also why, at least in my mind, it makes perfect sense for her to be down on herself, and also for her to decide to train harder.

The relationship between them on a logical level would not make sense at all. She's very much younger than him, and unless certain things had happened in Mamoru's younger years, I don't really see him becoming a pedophile. Therefore the initial attraction had to be, at least in a sense, similar traits of his own personality. Hence, the attraction being so physical to begin with. In his mind, they're both pretty good looking, they're strong, they fight for a future and they can dress up in cool costumes. It's a math equation that equals an obvious yes.

The other cool thing about their relationship is that it would never work under these circumstances. Ever. He would be egotistical and self-serving, and she would give until there was nothing left. That right there is a recipe for complete and utter unhappiness. However, the wonderful thing about human nature is the tendency to learn, grow, and self-evaluate. He loves Sailor Moon so much at this point that he's willing to look at himself through her eyes. This is the only way that change in character can be permanent. If the force for change is external from the character, it is temporary and based on something that could or could not be there in the future. Essentially, Mamoru is the only constant in his own life. Even future relations with Moon are conditional on the health of the relationship. For him to become what she needs, the force for change has to be from the inside.

This is why Moon has never said anything about it. She's young, and wouldn't really know how these things work anyway. Mamoru is very intelligent and can see that there's a big gap, and that it can't be filled with ego or pride, otherwise she would fight back. He can also see where she excels and he does not, and that can give him an aim.

So, for all the people who have left wonderful, confused reviews as to why this story is what it is, or why Mamoru just keeps going for the physical: don't expect the story to end in two chapters. It's about change and adaptation. It's about self, both how we view ourselves and are viewed by others. Mamoru has a way to go before he can be worthy of his princess, and Usagi has a way to go before she's mature enough to handle her prince. Simple as that.

So, if you like what you see, please let me know. If not, don't worry about it. I know I'm not a typical puppy-love kind of author, so I'm not going to be offended if that's what you were looking for. Thanks for reading so far, the reviews have been excellent and glowing. Thank you very much for your support, and please continue reading.

On why I haven't updated in 3 years: Because I suck.

Love

E


	11. Chapter Nine

Chapter nine

Heavy beats thrummed in the small room, blaring from the speakers overhead and accented by random blips and pings. Blinding white light blared from the open windows, highlighting the chaotic scene. The deep thrumming pulse beat like an unseen heart as cries of the fallen rang across the room. Children laughed and pushed each other around in the back, teens frustrated pounding on the consoles lining the walls. The smell of fries and burgers bled from every corner, laughter and chatter peppering the sights and smells of the room.

The gleaming red formica was heavy laden at the main counter, stacked evenly and efficiently with papers, books, and notes. The system stretched several feet in either direction from the central character, the dark shadow of his head bent to read again what he had written.

Mamoru tried to be as honest and forward as possible in his paper, and what he saw seemed right in a logical sense. He knew he was proud and arrogant, that he was good at everything he attempted, and that he could finish literally anything. They were not bad qualities to have. They would give him the things in life he had never had, through hard work and determination. They were what gave him his edge.

He set the paper aside quietly, fingering the old, chipped mug before him. He had worked all week and more, quickly reading or rereading the assignment books for his extra credit class. During his first or second year of college, he'd had to cover a few credits that took a stab at the subject of self, and had even taken one or two literature courses. It would be interesting to see what the younger kids thought on the subject; especially since they were just extensions of parents and family still.

What an awful assignment. Looking at books wouldn't be a problem, but class discussion was going to kill him. These kids had no idea, he was sure, what life was really like in the real world. They'd never even had to get jobs for the most part, let alone fend for themselves outright. As degrading as it was, however, one semester of weekly torture was an acceptable exchange for a better GPA. Motoki had gladly signed on as a fellow paper grader and possible substitute. Given Mamoru's extracurricular activities, this was probably more of an eventuality than a possibility.

He took a sip of dark, bitter coffee as he thought. The sudden dull ache was a stark reminder of a week ago, despite all the healing powers he had. His lower lip still bothered him even this long afterward. The reminder was not a pleasant one. After all, what he'd almost done could also almost be considered statutory rape. Had she been any younger at all, he'd be completely screwed.

How could she possibly be so _young_? The question was a plague, infecting every other thought in his mind. He had been young and fighting for his life at one point, he could respect that level of maturity. It had been him against reality, however; and she stood against an entire kingdom of demons howling for her head. That alone was impressive. The way she had fought that night seemed surreal.

He could still see her lithe form sliding across the back of his eyelids. She had been lethal and dangerous and beautiful, the way her kicks had landed, her impossibly golden hair fluttering through the winter air as she spun. It had been like a dance. Her kiss… he felt the fresh thrum of desire building in his blood. Her kiss had been a nearly lethal dose of ecstasy. Drugged, taunted beyond his ability to withstand, he all but pounced on her the second the chance had presented itself. Thought had ceased, all higher brain functions had somehow gotten lost in translation. His only desire had been her.

But she was so young! Despite all the power in her body, the strange power she had over him, she was barely more than a child! It was her moment of triumph when she should have been celebrating with the Senshi for her obvious improvement; and he had all but kidnapped her. She had been so frustrated and angry with him for assuming anything would happen, and he'd walked all over that. There was no thought of whether or not she was ready or even wanted him to. He'd just taken and assumed she'd thank him later.

He was a bastard.

And she was so _young_!

"Oi, Mamoru-kun! You gunna sit there all night?" Midnight blue eyes flew up from the countertop, momentarily angry at the intrusion. His blond friend was busily wiping down the grease vat, the arcade gutted like a pig for the roast. How long had he sat there staring off into space? Two hours? The empty tables had already been wiped, and the games stared black screens.

He shrugged, looking back at the papers and fingering the mug again. The brew was cold. Wow, he really had been out of it completely. The cup was almost full still. His analytical mind knew in some small way that eventually everything came down to perspective, and his was muddled and incoherent at the moment. He needed a fresh take, and maybe an extra set of eyes in the search.

"Motoki," his mouth was dry as the question formed, "am I a bastard?" The blond paused a moment, obviously surprised at the question. When he answered, the tone was cheerful and encouraging.

"As a friend or honestly?"

It took Mamoru a second to decide. He did want an honest opinion, it was true. But part of him knew exactly what the answer would be. Strangely enough, he actually cared a great deal what his best friend thought. Motoki was your typical white knight, and he knew how to take care of people in a way that just didn't click with Mamoru. He wondered for the first time what would have happened if the roles were switched; if Motoki had been called as the dark savior. Moon would have literally leapt into his arms the first night.

"Honestly."

"Yes." Motoki gave it, but only after showering the vat with the last spray of water. The expectation didn't negate the foul taste of iron in the back of his throat, nor did it supersede the momentary ping on his ego. Funny how it was that self same ego he was asking about.

"Ok, well what about as a friend?" Mamoru glanced up again, noticing at last that Motoki was staring at him curiously.

"Yes!" The cheerful grin on his face was just begging to be punched.

"Why differentiate between answers then?" he exploded, nearly knocking the papers off the counter as he spoke. This time the irritation couldn't be kept at bay.

"It's all in the tone." The blond shrugged, eyes mirthful as he leaned back on the counter. "See, as a friend I'm allowed to be enthusiastic about your bad characteristics. As a regular person I just call it as I see it."

The irritation fizzled back, disintegrating into blood and bone. Stupid Motoki; trying to be funny in face of a serious question like that. Mamoru should have known his friend would be such a smartass.

"Then why are we friends?" The darker man challenged, taking another sip from his now cold coffee as he did so.

"How else can I subtly change the course of your life?" The mischievous grin lighting on his face grated on already raw nerves. Mamoru set the cup on the counter again, sitting back to stare at his friend. Despite the grin, he had the distinct feeling that the blond was not actually teasing him so much as stating the obvious.

"I think you're secretly the bastard." He growled out finally, standing to take his cup behind the counter. A few turns in the microwave and it would be drinkable again. The comment heralded a sudden burst of laughter from the other man.

"Nope. See the big cheesy smile? It means I get away with stuff like that."

Mamoru rolled his eyes heavenward. How sadly true that statement seemed to be. The guy could literally get away with social murder at parties because no one took him seriously. It had been an irritation until he'd stopped going to them. Everyone loved Motoki, and respected Mamoru. If Moon knew him, she'd probably choose the blond trickster in a heartbeat. The fact that his friend remained single was definitely a consideration. In fact, it could be an interesting point. Motoki seemed to know a lot more about the younger people in the area since he worked so closely with the age group.

"Oi, I do have something I need help with actually. There's this girl…"

"Sailor Moon." Motoki cut in, his tone sharp and hinted with sarcasm. The irritation boiled a little at it.

"…yes." He replied evenly, turning to stare his friend down. Motoki had no idea how annoying it was when he did things like that.

"Just putting a name to it." The microwave beeped a moment later, only adding to the boiling frustration.

"Yes." He answered again, hardly bothering to note the microwave by his head.

"Just helping ya out there, buddy!" the dishrag was wiped across the counter nonchalantly, obviously meant as a distraction. Really, they'd been friends far too long for something like that to work on him.

"Motoki-kun."

"Well, it was pretty obvious after that little chat." The Cheshire cat grin spread across his mouth again, white rag flipping as he grabbed at his favorite glass. Mamoru felt his eye twitch dangerously at the sight of it. The surface had been buffed to high polish, and practically reflected light from the setting sun.

"Motoki."

"The way you go after these girls, Mamoru-kun; it really makes a guy wonder!" he was squeaking. Mamoru felt his teeth stand on end. The damn white rag on glass was actually squeaking.

"Motoki!"

"You could almost see the pedophile in that, you creeper!" Mamoru saw red. He was NOT a creeper! He was NOT a pedophile!

"Motoki-kun!"

"Careful, Mamoru-kun, that kind of stalker activity could turn a girl off pretty quick!" Squeak, squeak, went the glass. His nerves were raw, his jaw tightened. It was down to murder now.

"Mo…"

"No girl wants a stalker!" Motoki screamed finally, eyes glinting and brandishing the glass cup heavenward in righteous zeal.

"Why wouldn't she want me? I'm Tuxedo Kamen for crying out loud!"

"Holy shit!" Motoki screamed at nearly the same level, accentuated by the sharp tinkling of broken glass. Horror struck moments after shock, and the young man howled in pain and grief as he fell to his knees in the mess. "NO!"

Mamoru gulped, momentarily shocked into silence. He'd just blurted the biggest secret in the world, and Motoki had literally smashed his most prized tip cup to pieces on the floor. He didn't know which was more earthshaking.

"Wait, you didn't know?" Mamoru suddenly realized he'd been holding his breath. The fallen blond head in front of him was obviously downcast, and suddenly angry. Even as he lifted pieces of glass into his hands, the incoming explosion was obvious.

"No! What the hell is this?" The pieces were swept carefully into his arms. The shocked, almost disbelieving man stood quietly, swallowing a bit. Motoki had had that glass _forever_. Not the childish kind of forever as in five minutes previously, but since they were kids. Strangely, it made him feel…guilty? It was still a fairly new sensation. He didn't like it. "Explains even more! Why didn't you tell me –all I did over Halloween was make fun of you!"

"That's why I thought you knew!" Mamoru shot back, hardly believe what had just happened. How could his best friend not have known? Seriously, it couldn't just be one giant cosmic coincidence that he happened to down his coffee and race off the second a Youma popped up. Usually Motoki was all over that kind of stuff. "Look, we're getting off subject. Moon won't trust me…"

"Because you're a bastard." That last jibe could have been for either Moon, or the glass. He couldn't decide which.

"Duly noted! But…how do I even begin to get to her? She's Sailor Moon! She's perfect! She's the ultimate woman on the face of the planet and I want her and I can't have her and it sucks!" the second the tirade had begun, it all came spilling out onto the floor so much like the broken glass had been. It actually hurt to admit it out loud, but really she wouldn't have anything to do with him unless it was under coercion.

"And you're coming to me for advice on wooing superheroes? How many of those have I dated?" he asked from the ground, arms full of broken glass and dreams. Were those tears in his eyes?

"She would respond to you, is what I'm saying Motoki. She's sappy and sweet and all that crap I'm not good at." The blond turned back to his work, carefully lifting the bundle up from the ground. Shards of light glittered from the tile still, like a cemetery of glitter. The other man carefully took the other pieces to the counter, laying them out carefully so as not to incur more damage to them.

"So get good at it." He stated quietly, as if the answer was obvious. It was, but that hadn't been the question to begin with. Mamoru couldn't help the irritated eye roll as his friend continued on in his work. It was gone, just put the glass down and back away! It was awful, that he freely admitted, but it wasn't like it could be glued back together or anything.

"_How?_" he pressed. The clattering stopped. White clad arms leaned heavily on the red countertop, obviously irritated in turn. Despite the sudden death of the old glass, Mamoru felt a tiny ping of satisfaction. After all, the blond had done nothing but give snide remarks since the beginning of the conversation.

"Well, you could start by being nice."

Both eyes rolled heavenward again. Yeah, be nice. Because that's really all it would take to impress a super hero of her magnum. Not to mention it would bring a lot of unwanted attention from the world at large. Besides, it wasn't exactly what he was going for.

"You think? What else can I do? I don't want to just be nice to people, I want to be…"

"Better?" His friend cut in, turning from the mess finally. He must have seen something pretty pathetic in Mamoru's face, because suddenly the tone was no longer irritated or joking. "Please tell me this is more than just wanting a one night stand with her."

"It is." He nodded quietly, more for himself than anyone else. He loved her, wanted nothing more than to stand beside her, to fight with her, to make her laugh the way she did. She may have been painfully young, but really what did it matter at the end of the day? She was old enough to make her own decisions. He could only hope that one of those would be to forgive him, and maybe let him into her life.

"Are you sure? Not just a great pair of boobs now?" Motoki's green eyes were intense, searching him. Mamoru returned the stare with withering sarcasm.

"Give me some credit, Motoki, I said that to throw Matsumori off the trail."

"Are you sure?" Again, those eyes searched him, as if he could see straight into Mamoru's soul. "You know, you never really had a family. She probably comes from a fairly good one. There's a pretty big difference between you right there. It's something that's going to take time, especially for what you're asking."

Mamoru shrugged nonchalantly. It was something that he'd at least somewhat known about her. She'd mentioned some sort of family last summer on the roofs. Too bad he hadn't been taking notes during the tirade, the information would have been incredibly helpful in the search.

"I don't know anything, Motoki, you just said that." The blond nodded.

"Obviously. So what would you suggest?" Mamoru grit his teeth angrily. Why did the man have to answer a question with another question? All it did was infuriate, it didn't actually serve a purpose at all. His fists clenched a little. His friend had always been able to get to him like that, just beneath the surface. No matter how often it happened, he would never get used to it.

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking you." Mamoru was in slight disbelief as Motoki started to arrange the glass like an intricate puzzle.

"Well don't. You've got a whole list of things you could be doing to help with that." Motoki finally gave up on shards and reached into a cabinet under the counter. He came back up with an intricate napkin that was soon laid out on the flat surface. The tinkling of glass as it was carefully placed in the cloth was the only sound in the arcade for awhile. Mamoru thought for a few moments, noting how the last rays of the sun glinting in through the window and hitting the pieces of the over-shined glass was somehow distracting.

"Give me one example." Motoki had finally tied the corners of the napkin together and walk to the trash bin, contemplating over it.

"No, Mamoru. This is something you have to figure out on your own. My suggestion is start with something you know." The precious cargo in Motoki's hands was finally placed in the compartment. Mamoru stood, figuring that he was not going to get anything more out of the man who was now kneeling in front of the can and seemed to be giving the glass its final words. He decided to give the man his privacy through this trial, and packed his books and papers. The sun had just set, city lights illuminated the street as he left the arcade.

The room blossomed deep red, accented in the heady scent of roses. The childish room was completely overrun with crimson. Usagi smiled, breathing deeply and laying back on the bed. The sudden weight by her feet made her smile in sleepy bliss. Luna padded her way up the bed slowly, obviously muttering under her breath about the gifts. The blond tried her best to ignore that bit. Her room was filled with red roses from Tuxedo Kamen, and she was just going to enjoy it.

"I don't know why you're accepting gifts from that guy. We've already told you he could be the enemy." The long, sleek body curled up beside her as she spoke, tail switching in irritation. Usagi nodded half heartedly and set her hand along the warm, soft back of her mentor. Thick black hair slid between her fingers as she drifted in and out of sleep. It was the last day of winter vacation, tomorrow would bring school again. She wasn't quite ready for that yet, but it was going to happen anyway.

"Oi, Usagi-donkey!" the door whipped open at the sound of her brother's voice, revealing the short brunette. Usagi couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "You got some mail! I found it on the counter under a stack of magazines!"

The letter came flying through the air toward her, barely missing an ear as she deftly slid around it. Shingo grumbled at not hitting her before turning to hobble off down the hallway.

"Oi Shingo! Crutches look good on you!" She called back, half giggling as he hollered over one shoulder for her to shut it. She really shouldn't be amused at it, since he'd been caught in an attack that she had been part of, but he was just…such a little brother. Luna sniffed disdainfully, flicking her tail anew. Her and Shingo hadn't gotten along from the start, and the boy still got on her nerves sometimes. Especially after interrupting her little cat nap.

Usagi reached up carefully, picking the letter up from the other side of the mattress. It was from the school district. She groaned, knowing her grades from last semester weren't going to impress anybody. But she was trying so hard to get her battle skills up, she didn't have time for school. Besides, knowing her luck, she'd be fighting these demons forever, so school was really secondary anyway.

The white envelope tore easily, and the letter unfolded like a message of doom. She grimaced, sliding upward to sit on the edge of the bed. This was not her grades at all. She stood, walking quickly towards the door and shutting it behind her. Dad was not allowed to see her Christmas gifts, or else she'd never hear the end of it.

"Mama! What's this?"

Ikuko leaned back from her chair far enough to glance up the stairs at her daughter. She was making her way slowly down the steps and staring blankly at the paper in her hand. She stood from the chair, flinging pieces of deep blue hair over her shoulder as she walked toward the stairs. It could be a death sentence for how Usagi was staring at it.

"Hmm," she began, looking over the notice carefully. "Looks like it's an extra credit class to make up for some of those grades last semester! That's wonderful Usagi! Oh, and it looks like it's required for you as a graduation credit! Isn't that wonderful? Now you won't have to spend so much time at the arcade!"

Usagi groaned, slapping her head down on a hand. She was afraid of that. Not to mention the fact she hadn't been to the arcade in months. She'd had other things to do.

The familiar streets pantomimed life in every direction. Cold, steel grey skies bore down from above, sheeting color from the view. Lifeless, sloshing snow cuddled close to the ditches. Above, the traffic light changed from red to green, or at least supposedly did. Everything seemed grey and hollow. He swallowed down on the lump growing in the back of his throat. Both shoulders felt stiff and unyielding even as he tried to force himself to breath and relax.

His hands felt clammy and cold. It was winter, though, and the air was humid and freezing from the nearby ocean. It had absolutely nothing to do with the building across the street. His lungs felt frozen and scratchy, his throat sore and aching. He heaved another breath, feeling tired and worn down. The sudden buzzing in the back of his mind was familiar; anger, resentment, denial. The hard emotions all but growled at the back of his thoughts; prowling dangerously for release.

The path was well worn to this spot, and it had taken weeks to come even this far. He shuddered somewhere low in the spine, the familiar smell of machine oil and coal somewhere nearby. Flustered, irritated blue eyes searched downward for a watch, staring thoughtlessly at his face reflected back. The steady hands lied the time: 6pm. It had been more than an hour and a half since he'd finished his last class; too long to stand out in the snow staring at a building.

The red brick stared back, coated gray and rusty with time and neglect. Around the back, the cook would bring the trash any moment, a side door squeaked in response to the thought. The same stale rice and soup aromas filtered back even now. He forced down the sudden tickle in the back of his throat. Even after this many years…

Clammy, stiff hands stretched within their thick leather gloves. He heaved one more breath, then another. If he could just focus long enough to cross the street… if he could just take another breath maybe…

Late January air clogged and tore on the way down his throat. He had to get moving. Pretty soon, the attendant would assume he had not wanted to come by at all. He'd spoken with her weeks ago, tentatively setting up a time to come by. Even then he'd known what it would take to cross the threshold again, to stare down the long narrow hallway into the blackness. The doors would line the walls evenly spaced leading down into oblivion. The warped, uneven wood floor would squeak at the pressure of tiny feet, the smell of future lunch would nearly bring tears to the eyes.

Mamoru forced back again the aching emptiness in his gut, further into his heart and soul. The place had been hell on earth, a corner where kids who were not worth caring for got shoved in the hopes that they would just disappear. Some did. Mamoru had not. As young as he'd been, as confused and scared as he'd been, he still knew there had been a purpose. He knew more than anything that he _must_ survive. He'd known how to close himself, how to stop feeling, how to stop caring. But the mind is a terrible thing to waste, and Mamoru had not done that.

Though teased and bullied early on, he'd spent his time studying. The ultimate reckoning had come the moment his high school test had come back. The others could look forward to a life covered in coal and fish scales, he had been accepted to Azubu Tech, and with it, been assigned to sponsor. The sudden flash of school grants and a chance at a real job, he'd clawed his way out from the pack and into a better life.

The rest, as they say, was all history. He'd never looked back. He'd never thought to come back. Now that he stood a street away, he could hardly make himself. The orphanage loomed against the hard grey sky like the impending hand of Death himself.

That last conversation with Motoki loomed in the back of his mind. His friend had not given him any answers that he'd needed, but he had made a few excellent points. Moon had mentioned something about a family in June, she was warm and caring like a hallmark card, she had the ability to love everyone. Mamoru had not even come close to that. He'd been raised in the pits of hell itself, taught that things like emotions and feelings were weaknesses to be dealt with. He had not known what it was like to care for someone until she came along

Granted, Mamoru cared about Motoki as well, just not exactly the way that Moon made him care. He'd needed fresh perspective and time. Through his reading a preparing for class, someone had brought up the merits of service in character, and had specifically mentioned places like orphanages that needed the help. The book had been direct in the connection between kindness and service. It had been one of the few to even mention it, however the idea had stuck. He barely had time as it was to complete everything, but this was important too.

Now, if he could just make himself actually go across the street. The plan was to come once weekly and be a sort of big brother to a few of the kids. He had no idea what kind of brother he'd make, but the things that had helped him break free would be useful to know to the other kids still living here. The things they hadn't learned yet would be a reminder to him as well of a childhood he hadn't had. Well, he amended, at least a reminder of what it was like here. He'd tried to suppress those memories as much as possible.

Moon would think it was a good idea. The memory of her checking over the babies last August was enough proof of that. She loved kids, and sometimes showed signs of being childlike herself. It would give them something to talk about anyway, if the chance for leisurely conversation presented itself. He probably could have just gotten a puppy, for all the effect it would have. Like he'd told Motoki, however, it was all about becoming better, not just pretending to be.

He did not think, he did not bother to breathe, simply stepped down from the curb and walked quickly to the other side. His heart pounded harsh and urgent behind the ears, a sound that felt heady and drugged even as close as it was. The snow crunched loudly underfoot, obviously frozen and refrozen with the ebbing storms across the island. His breath fogged in the air, momentarily blinding him in the cold.

The sudden apparition of the door spooked him from the stupor. He froze instantly at the sight, suddenly remembering how it had looked from a much shorter vantage point. The great wooden door was still painted off white, cleaned to a creepy sort of sterile. The whole place had been like that, scrubbed over and over with the tiny hands of children who had misbehaved. The cool touch shuddered along his spine again, and he raised his hand to knock.


	12. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

The room was dark, lit only by a small window directly over the main desk. Books lined the walls on all sides, their names lost to the blackness. All sound from outside had disappeared the moment the door had closed with a solid thump. The stark, pale winter light broke itself across a small desk, perfectly clean but for a few papers. A single shadow stretched itself across the sparse gray floorboards, ending as suddenly as it began.

Mamoru fought the urge to fidget. He was barely breathing at all, forcing his eyes to remain steady on the figure by the window, careful to keep his face as blank and steady as possible. A faint trickle of sweat rolled down the small of his back, itching as it went. The stale, crypt-like air froze from the inside, the age-old dusk choked and grasped as it slid down his throat. It had felt like walking into a grave the moment he had crossed the threshold.

"Chiba Mamoru." The dry, rasping voice ghosted through the room, causing his hair to stand on end and gooseflesh to ripple across his arms. He stood a little taller, fighting back the urge to cower in front of the shadow. It was like being caught in your worst childhood nightmare to stand here in the room again, to stare down the man who had been the harbinger of doom from your first memory. He suppressed the urge to shudder.

"Hai."

"I remember you." The man may as well have landed a heavy blow directly to his stomach. Mamoru breathed deeply, nearly choking on the old, stale air of the office. "The prodigy returns, eh? How is that big shiny school?"

His throat was dry. The old man was actually speaking as if he cared. The idea was ridiculous, as he'd quickly learned as a youngster. The director of operations in the orphanage did _not_ care if you lived or died so long as he got his allotted money from the state, and you behaved. He'd only ever met the man once, and had heard stories of him for years. It was all he could do to keep down the childish terror clawing its way up his throat.

"It's good, sir." He croaked finally. The old man nodded, settling himself into the small chair behind the desk.

"And what will you become?" he asked quietly, straightening the papers with absentminded perfection. It was like being audited by the nastiest government tax collectors in the history of the world.

"Big business manager. Top forty company." His hands were clammy. Was he dreaming this whole segment? Another breath forced his lungs open, but it was painful.

"Business, hu? Well, we need those too. So why come back here?"

"I'm in need of public service hours, sir. I'd like to work with some of the kids…"

"Yes. I'm sure." It left little room for comment. The papers slid across each other as the ancient man peered down through thick glasses at them.

Mamoru kept his mouth resolutely shut. He hated being here, hated standing before the old man as if he'd been caught stealing food or something. He'd never stooped to that during his stay in the orphanage. A lot had happened since he left these halls, but it was reduced to nothing in front of the skeletal figure stooped over his desk. Hate and resentment blossomed in Mamoru's chest as he stared at the small figure.

"Well," he breathed dustily, adjusting the glasses as he looked upward. "Everything seems to be in order. I'll have the orderly show you around." He nodded toward the door, signally the end of the meeting.

Mamoru found it much easier to breathe the moment the door closed behind him. He battled against the need to lean on something and simply breathe for a few minutes. The director had given him nightmares more times than he could count. Even the mention of his name had brought terror screaming through his bones. The old man was crazy in that quiet, calculating way that they were all sure meant maiming and dismemberment with the added bonus of a straight face.

He shuddered; glad to be out of that tiny office and its dead occupant. Besides, it was silly to feel that way now. He was 21 years old, and had done a lot with his life. He was a super hero! He didn't need some stupid, irrational fear from a man who was nine-tenths dead and already decomposing.

"Chiba-san?"

The soft voice broke through his thoughts. She was short and old, with great round cheeks and wrinkles to share piling up around her eyelids. Her dark gray hair had been pulled back in a low ponytail, and her clothing was nondescript. She must have been new; he didn't recognize either voice or manner. He nodded, smiling casually.

"Right this way, I'll show you around." She turned, beginning the long trek down the hallway and toward the dorms. Mamoru followed silently, caught somewhere between running for the door and continuing behind the old woman. She spoke, hardly noticing his anxiety. "The children here are most taken from abusive families. They're brought here from the state before they can be placed in foster care. Most don't stay long unless their case is particularly difficult. Hizaki Umi is one of those cases. We do have another girl who comes to visit, but it's usually on Thursdays before dinner."

"How long as he been here?"

"Two years. He was found starving in an alley, no memories at all of what happened before he was picked up. He's a scrawny little thing, but fiery. Careful what you say around him."

"I understand."

At first look, the boy was hardly more than a slip of bone and flesh. His hair was dark, but whether it was from genes or coal, Mamoru honestly couldn't tell. His skin was black-smudged and wan, as if it had only been stretched across the bones. Dark, brooding brown eyes stared up at him balefully. The boy was searching, assessing in his own way. Mamoru let him, knowing how untrusting he must be at this point. Especially if he was as difficult as the orderly made him sound –his visitors must not stay long.

"Kon'wa, Umi-chan." Mamoru said quietly, looking down at the dark-headed little scrap of boy before him. Those dark, sharp eyes stared at him, saying nothing. It was like walking through another dimension, watching himself through the years, staring down at himself from afar. The otherworldly feeling plagued him as the boy finally glanced at the older woman.

"Chiba-san." He answered, watching the attendant smile and walk away after the introduction.

"How old are…" the young boy turned and walked away as the upperclassman began, and lay down on the meager bed roll. Mamoru took a breath slowly, remembering what he would have reacted like. This was going to be a long first visit. "Umi-chan."

"Shut up, baka. I'm not your project." The voice was filled with defiance and irritation, just as Mamoru assumed it would be. He took a moment to glance around the small, shabby room. It fit three tiny bedrolls, all lined up in a row. Three little chairs were set against the wall, each holding back a large writing desk that could be set across the lap. He remembered the top was smooth and easy to write on, but the bottoms were woven together and tended to itch at the knees.

He resisted the need to scratch at his legs as he thought, quickly turning eyes from them. The walls were grimy and dark, coated with dirt and decades of abuse from youngsters. It augmented the prison-like feel air, closed the room around him into a suffocating pit. A shiver broke across his skin, and he forced his eyes from the drab, black and white pictures along the wall. The awkward scrawling lines could have come from any child's hand, but for some reason seemed very familiar.

He pushed the thoughts away, focusing anew on the small boy across from him. Grimy light filtered down from above, decimated by windows coated with smoke and soot from the outside. It all but huddled around the small boy, and nothing but highlight the layers of silt and coal layering his clothes. He recoiled habitually at the thought of it getting in the bedroll, even as meager as this one was.

"Are you studying anything interesting?" He croaked finally, pulling one of the seats out from the wall to settle into beside the bed. Resolution spread across his face grimly as he sat and turned to the boy again, eyes as steadfast as his manner.

The boy glanced at him curiously, obviously irritated that the older man had not left yet. Mud brown eyes rolled upward, and he turned over to face the other direction.

Midnight blue orbs narrowed in on the rebellion dangerously. He glanced once more around the room, this time calculating instead of remembering. The drawings stood out, black on black, and weren't particularly good. The boy obviously didn't care about appearances either, and that left precious little room for a catalyst. A small frame faced toward the window, blocking his view from the picture within. The floorboards creaked as he reached across and gently tugged the corner back far enough to see.

A short bark of laughter broke the silence, almost cruel in it's intensity.

"I take it you know Odango-atama?" he asked, fingers rolling over the perfectly scrubbed glass. It had cracked down in the corner at some point and been taped painstakingly back together. Little Odango's face was screwed up in that donkey laugh, long blond pigtails flailing from either side of her head. Umi laughed beside her, and even his eyes didn't seem to hold a shadow as he did. The thought bothered him immensely.

"HEY!" Umi screeched, leaping from the bed to snatch the photograph back. The piece was clung to his chest with animal ferocity, a matching glare boring down on him from beneath dirt-caked hair. "Don't _ever_ touch this! It's not yours!"

"Sorry…"

"It's _not yours_!" he repeated, voice thick and loud in the small room. The crumpled, unruly boy before him could not have matched the face smiling up from the picture.

"She's a friend then?" Mamoru hazarded emotionlessly. If nothing else it was a topic of conversation, which he was determined to get. It had taken everything he had to cross that threshold and he would not leave until he got what he came for. Charity.

"Shut up! Don't talk about her! You don't know her!" the boy spat vehemence, turned away to curl up on the bed again.

"Of course I do. We're old friends." Mamoru's smile was cold and enumerating in the deep silence that followed.

A jaunty whistle filled the apartment to the brim, the sounds of frying oil adding a sharp staccato rhythm to the melody. Colors splayed in a dramatic splash across the fine black of a pan. The long stripes of red and green blackened at the edges and peppered with the thin milky white of onion. Across the counter in neat little rows lay shards of cut chicken, mounds of cilantro, and crushed garlic. Each were added to the pan in time, the sudden smells of rich Mexican food bringing the quaint, quirky room to life.

Lime green tended to be a theme, shown in broad blocks of sofa and tiles of clock on the wall. A small sea turtle chain hung happily from the blinds on one window. His brothers, both of plastic and plush variety, lined the bookshelf and tv stand at random. The more adventurous ones lost in a game of poker around a pool filled with toes and feet from above.

Motoki grinned at the sight of it the moment he turned from the stove.

A few complicated (if awkwardly placed) footsteps, and the young man salsa-stepped into the living room with his plate full of food. He muttered something quietly under his breath, earphones blaring loudly. He set the plate down on the couch, spinning into a random pose with air microphone in hand.

"Nananana –na! Tacos!" he erupted triumphantly, recognizing a single word at last.

"Oi, Motoki-kun. You're Japanese." a dark voice called from the doorway. The blond nearly jumped out of his body in response to the tired, anger ridden voice. "I don't think that's a taco." The shadow added, quickly turning to ram his forehead into the wall.

"Mamoru-kun! You're back! How was the orphanage?" He smiled cheerfully, pulling the earphones away and settling into the couch as if his best friend hadn't just caught him dancing and listening to Mexican music. A dull thump erupted from the entryway, quickly followed by a second and third. Motoki gulped.

"I hate orphans."

Another deep thump followed. Brilliant green eyes blinked once, twice. He couldn't help but stare into the shadow of the entryway. Mamoru's shoulders were slumped and worn looking, tired creases bore into his eyes even from this distance. It was only a reminder, though, because most of it had come out in that tired, gruff voice. Motoki had never heard that particular tone in his friend's voice before.

"But…you're one of them." He admonished quietly, and couldn't help but smile. It wasn't quite a jab, at least not entirely.

"Motoki-kun. Shut up."

He swallowed thickly, lowering his gaze to the plate. The sick, haunted look seething just beneath the surface of those eyes scared him, as much as he did not want to admit it to himself. Finally, though he had to force his voice steady, he spoke.

"Want some fajitas? They're Mexican."

The answering stare froze even vibrant Motoki in place. Gaunt, dark circles stood out blatantly beneath drawn brows. Pale, maybe even shaking, the other man walked quietly into the room and all but collapsed in the large sofa. Motoki felt his lower jaw slacken a little in disbelief. He could not have left more of an impression had he come in with a handgun and killer intent. There had been a few times back in high school when Motoki had been seriously considering the possibility. Luckily that had passed with time as Mamoru grew more and more accustomed to the cues of society.

"Mamoru-kun?" he asked quietly, watching as his friend pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I should have gone home. Sorry, your place was so much closer."

He nodded, watching as the weariness slipped away with each breath. He couldn't help but wonder how much of it Mamoru kept tightly controlled and hidden from him. Already, the other was sitting up straighter, the color returning to his face. The tragedy of his past had not been a deep well of conversation between them. Motoki knew generalities on the subject, and understood his friend's reluctance to speak much about it. After this willing jaunt directly into the face of the beast, it was apparent that his friend would need a few moments.

"Let me get you a drink."

Motoki fumbled with a glass in the kitchen, hardly believing what he'd just witnessed. That man was always cold, calculating. He could look at life from farther away than anyone else could. Always removed, always emotionally detached, his friend had made it this far on that horrible upbringing without going mad completely. It was a self defense mechanism. The mere sight of what lay beneath was disturbing on the deepest level, especially with Mamoru's current goals.

He handed the shaken man a glass of something dark, instantly setting himself back in a chair across from the couch. He knew Mamoru pretty well, and knew he would want his space right now. Silently, the glass was taken and drawn from deeply. Even after the solid thump of it against the table stopped echoing in the small room, both remained silent.

Motoki had once made the mistake of pressing his friend when he'd been drawn back like this. The result could not have been more surprising, and unsettling at the same time. His voice would not –maybe even could not- rise in anger. The orphan had a way of cutting everyone off from him that felt like a quiet atomic bomb blowing even sound away.

His mind automatically conjured up that day last June when he and little Usagi had fought the last time. Even then, even in the face of her, of all people, he had been as chilling and removed as with every other girl. Usagi, all life and longing and youth, had been nothing more than a spring flower shriveling beneath the frost and snow. She had cried so much. Motoki could remember hearing her broken, desperate sobs through the thin wood of her bedroom door. He could still see the shadow in her eyes even now, months later.

"The director remembered me." The dark, hollow voice started finally. The sharp reminder of the present brought the usually bright man back from his somber thoughts. "That's something, I guess." They lapsed back into silence for a moment.

"I didn't realize it was the same place." Motoki croaked finally, the sudden revelation burning even deeper into his mind. There had to be a hundred such places all over Tokyo, so why go back to _that_ one? "Anything else happen?" Motoki asked finally, not liking the brooding look in his friend's sharp eyes. The firm set of his jaw, angled in the light from the streetlamps outside looked almost sinister for a brief moment.

"I met a friend of a friend actually." Dark, almost black pits rose slowly from the carpet to catch Motoki's confusion. "Looks like little Odango's been playing again. I wonder if she knows how much it hurts them to just leave them in that hellhole."

At the mention of the short blond, Motoki started a little from the seat. He'd just been thinking of her, and how she was mixed up in all of this. Strange that Mamoru would run in to her while on an errand for his illusive mistress. Even stranger, that Usagi was a constant visiter to the same place that Mamoru had grown up in.

"Umi-chan?" the blond asked quietly, remembering the times Usagi would giggle over something the boy had said. The other nodded ominously, as if the revelation had been of something more evil than a friendship. "I didn't realize it was the same place. Yes, they're good friends."

The mute outrage boiled silently within his friend. Anyone else would think he was just sitting in quiet thought, but they'd known each other too long to not pick up on those things.

"Why hasn't she done anything for him?" he whispered, but the voice was more intense than he probably meant it to be. Motoki shrugged.

"Because her parents can't take on another kid right now. They tried, believe me. I think Ikuko-san still bakes cookies for them every Thursday, and they have special arrangements for him to come over sometimes." He fingered the cooling food on his plate, suddenly saddened that he'd missed the time to eat it piping hot and fresh.

"She couldn't have done anything more cruel." Mamoru intoned quietly, his voice echoing. He lifted the glass and quickly drained the remainder of it.

"Don't be so quick to judge, Mamoru-kun. Usagi is a good friend. Very caring and sweet." The admonition had no effect, though. Still lost in thought, the other man rubbed the lip of his glass and stared hard into the ground at his feet. The stygian depths were cool now, almost to the freezing point.

"Yes. I can see that." He whispered finally, eyes narrowing as he spoke. Motoki clucked, standing to walk into the kitchen with an ease he did not really feel. The room had become ominous and heavy, two things he did not really understand. It had also held a lot of hostility, and against the most ironic of all people.

The water screamed loud, cascading and bouncing heavily off the smooth porcelain of his plate. He stared at the steadily falling spray in quite fascination, mind turning round and round. The implications of his friend's quickly growing hate would completely consume both of his best friends if he didn't find some way to stop it. Mamoru was a very decisive person, and once he'd made up his mind there was no going back on it. Usagi had already been thrashed by that, and Motoki would _not_ sit by and allow it to happen again. He should not have allowed it the first time –but it had been sick fascination and even repulsion that had kept his mouth shut that afternoon.

"How do you know Usagi?" Motoki jumped again, feeling his heart pound heavily behind his eyes and ears. "I've never asked." He turned, glancing at Mamoru's dark form shadowing the doorway into the kitchen. The color had returned fully to his face, and he no longer looked as angry.

"My dad and hers were college buddies. Dad was Kenji's best man."

Mamoru nodded, leaning his head back on the pale white frame of the doorway. He seemed to be deep in thought, staring away into the distance and lost. Motoki turned back to the rushing water, and to his own thoughts.

"That explains why you always baby her." The somber man noted this quietly, almost to himself. Motoki just shook his head, glad that his friend really didn't know the half of it. Ever since that day when Sailor Moon had all but passed out behind the arcade after a fight, things had been so different. He remembered the door opening, seeing her fuku for a split second before the flash of light that brought the tiny, frail girl tumbling into his arms. He'd been shocked and heartbroken to see such a close friend in that much pain. Her arm had been torn up something nasty when he'd carried her into the back room. Unazuki had raced down from the fruit parlor to help staunch the flow of blood while Motoki tried to piece together the identities of other Senshi.

He felt like he knew Mamoru better than anyone, and he likely did. But the shock of finding out he was Tuxedo Kamen had really come as a blow, even as explanatory as it was. Even though it was difficult to accept on the surface, he'd be secretly pleased to hear of the heroic calling. Maybe with time the estranged man might find something in humanity that he could connect with and fight for.

"I protect her because I love her, Mamoru-kun. That's what you do when you care." He could almost visualize the other man nodding in agreement, even though he was focused on the dishes.

"She'd be stronger if she had to do things for herself." The other man muttered. Motoki shook his head resolutely.

"Not Usagi-chan. She can be a little lioness on her own, but people are her strength. She finds things in them. Good things. She makes them feel more whole, and that makes her happy." If only his friend could see what she did for others; putting them far above her own needs. Those girls she now hung around after school had all been loners their whole lives. He hadn't had a chance to talk with them much, since they were always doing other things, but they seemed sweet enough.

"She could do with a little less happy."

The water continued to pour into the sink, slowly filling the great silver basin. Motoki watched it, memories flashing over the multiple times Usagi had called for much needed stitches, or for Ami last Halloween. He tried to stifle the growing anger rising on their behalf.

"Why are you so down on her? You're not the only person with problems." The water shut off, swallowing the room in silence for a few blessed moments. He breathed a bit, thrusting both hands into the water to start the dirty work. It was a distraction, and he knew it. But those girls gave their lives for him and everyone else in this city, including the self absorbed Chiba Mamoru. The least he could do was show a little human respect.

"Just the only one that matters."

Case in point. He tried not to let it bother him, but it did anyway.

"You're a jerk." The dishcloth was grabbed a little more roughly than he wanted, but it couldn't be helped.

"But I'm working on it." The snide answer did nothing but frustrate the blond man as he leaned over the sink in frustration. Who would have thought that Mamoru really could be that much of a heartless, self-centered jack-off? He could see the goal quickly slipping from sight even as he stood staring blankly at the plate in the sink.

"At the rate you're going, you'll never get to where you want to be. You might as well give up. Just tell Moon she can do better and go back to the empty models you're used to." He sighed finally, knowing it was true. Even with the added bonus of being Tuxedo Kamen, his friend had no chance if he couldn't even consider the reality of her.

Motoki flipped the water on, busily scrubbing at a pan to ease his boiling emotions. He loved Usagi like a sister, but she really had some terrible taste in men –even if it was his best friend. He could still see her changing even now because of what Mamoru was doing to her. He hated every second of it.

"That's kind of harsh." The rumbling tenor voice muttered across the counter. Motoki glanced sideways before returning to his plate. Why did he have to be such a pushover for that stupid hollow look Mamoru did sometimes. It was like kicking a puppy that had already been kicked half dead.

"It's more than kind of true." he rinsed carefully, keeping his eyes down as he spoke. "You're courting –in your own words- the perfect woman. You want to change for her, don't you? It's not about the actions, Mamoru-kun, it's about the reactions. It's about what you're thinking; it's about what you want to do." The water shut off, causing a heavy silence to fall across them as he busied himself with the drying. His mind was working at a hundred miles an hour, trying to think of any way to help the situation instead of hinder. "If you're just staring off into space obsessing about her while you're talking with someone, you might as well end the conversation and set up a creepy shrine in your living room. You might as well just keep dreaming forever because she will _never_ be ok with that. You know her better than I do, and you know I'm right."

"Yeah. You are." His friend said at last, breaking through his memories like a knife. He had no idea how difficult it was to see both sides of the argument and choose who to help. He was sworn to protect Moon's identity with his life, and to protect Usagi as both a friend and a brother. Her father would never forgive him if he ever found out about his daughter's night-time activities. It was hard already to get a hold of her when her parents called for dinner.

He could understand why Mamoru was the way that he was. Hell, he'd gotten so much better than when they'd first met that it was night and day difference. But even seeing that change now, Motoki wondered if it was possible for Mamoru to make that big of a leap into the unknown. Usagi needed someone who could understand and accept her for who she was. She didn't have time to deal with ego or unfounded dislike from some guy who really had no idea what was going on in her world right now.

"Did you really say 'courting'?" Mamoru asked, as straight faced as possible.

"Shut up."

Usagi was a rolling beetle today. In fact, her heavy winter coat had gotten splashed by a passing car, and even looked faintly brown. The ridiculously puffy contraption completely obliterated the girl, down to the spindly fingers poking conspicuously out of the sleeves like insect legs. Her long, skinny legs poked out like antennae. It was cold, and now she was wet, and that stupid extra credit class was going to take away from training with Makoto.

The really, really sad thing about the whole deal was that she had been in a really good mood until that happened. The flowers were wilting in her bedroom, but at least they'd been there. Things could have gone much worse that night with Tuxedo Kamen, and yes, she had sobbed like a baby in front of him. The still alien weight of his Christmas gift fell heavy on her collarbone beneath the shirt. The silver glittered from being rubbed so much since that night.

It was onyx, the attendant at the mall had explained. She hadn't wanted to show Ami, for fear of what her friend would say. It was nothing that Usagi didn't know herself anyway. As much as she wanted to say it would never happen again, deep down it was all she hoped for. It wasn't at all what she thought her first kiss would be. Not even close. Sometimes, she found herself staring off into space, remembering the strength of him. The man had just picked her up and took what he wanted. The fact that it was incredibly attractive seemed wrong.

That jerk. How dare he do such a thing to her, carrying her off like that? She'd been so angry at him, so confused at what he wanted. At first, those fears had been confirmed and she'd loved being thoroughly ravished. But then he'd gone and cared about her when she'd cried. He didn't make any sense. Either he's a terrible man who only wanted selfish things, or he was a good man and truly wanted to make her happy. All this middle ground was not ok. If he was going to be terrible, she could just tell him to go away and be done with it.

If he was going to be a good...she didn't know what would happen then. He'd been a bully for so long to her –and he still didn't know who she was! How could anyone be that thick? Wasn't he some sort of super genius? Shouldn't he have figured it out in weeks, let alone almost 6 months? She sighed, feeling the weight of his gift against her breastbone. Mamoru-baka.

"Usagi-chan!" a gruff female voice called across the yard, bringing bright blue eyes around. Along the class 1 wall lay a huge line of girls gabbing and chattering to each other. A tall chestnut haired girl stood nearly head and shoulders above the rest, motioning for Usagi to stand beside her.

Kino Makoto was the newest member of their group, and strong and brave like Usagi wanted to be. She clearly intimidated everyone but the blond, as the area around her was given a wider berth. The dull army green skirt from her last school hung low below the oversized winter coat. Usagi couldn't help but grin. At least they'd be rolling bugs together in this stupid extra credit class.

"Oi, can you believe this is required for us? All these other girls are here for extra credit." The blond guffawed, staring at the long, long line of girls. Someone at the front of the line was leading them over to the Phys Ed building, where she was sure they'd be filling the bleachers and floor. Part of her felt sorry for whoever was teaching this thing; they'd have a heck of a lot of papers to read!

"I know! And here I didn't think there would be so many wanting extra credit." A mousy voice commented beside them. Usagi jumped, not expecting the blue haired genius to show up.

"Oh, Ami-chan! Don't tell me you're here too!" Mako pressed her head to one hand as she spoke. Usagi glanced from one to the other, feeling a little better now that her two friends were there. With Ami's help, this would be a piece of cake!

"Of course." She adjusted slim glasses and shifted the heavy bag on her shoulder. "I'm very much looking forward to a class on the views of self and humanity through the eyes of classic literature. It will make for a good addition to my other classes when I apply for med school." The blond nodded half-heartedly. Ami was so incredibly smart and cool. She had a bright future in medicine and could do anything she wanted with her life. Even if the other kids resented her for her smarts, they did respect her.

"I have to take it before I can get the entrance exam." Usagi muttered darkly, eyes suddenly flashing unholy fire.

"Yeah, me too." Mako nodded in kind as they followed into the large room. The bleachers were filling fast. Girls were everywhere! Where were all the guys? She saw two or three huddled together in one corner and couldn't help but giggle mischievously. It was every boy's dream to be caught in a class with this many girls! It'll be fun to watch them squirm if nothing else!

They found a few seats open in the very back, high enough that Usagi had to fight the urge to squint a little. That was really, really weird! Usually the last seats available were up front! Puzzled, obviously distracted, the blond jumped when the boy next to her grunted in pain.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! Didn't mean to…uh…drop my bag there…" He shrugged, reaching down to move her bag closer to the seat and turned back toward the front. She blushed; embarrassed that she'd been as thoughtless as to set it right on his foot. Poor guy. She hoped he wouldn't be sitting by them next time.

"Usagi-chan, it's starting." Ami whispered somewhere on the other side of Mako.

"Wow what a hunk! He looks just like my old boyfriend!" the brunette sighed. Usagi fidgeted with her book bag, trying to see over the heads of the girls in front of her as she worked to get her notebook free. She was going to try her hardest in here! She had to get past those stupid entrance exams!

"Oh, that's interesting. I guess I didn't notice who would be teaching." Ami noted casually, glancing down the row to the fumbling blond in nervous curiosity. Usagi would not like that one little bit.

The blond wrestled the notebook free, fought down the urge to crow in victory and turned both blue eyes to the microphone being tapped at the bottom of the bleachers. Her victorious grin melted instantly; face losing all color at once.

"Welcome to Self in Literature. I am your teacher, Chiba Mamoru…" the girls cheered raucously in response to the name. Even in her shattered state, Usagi could see the faint tightening of his mouth as he moved on. "and this is my assistant, Furuhata Motoki. We'll be team teaching this class. Outlined on this paper is a full syllabus, please take one and pass them on."

She couldn't hear anymore. The drone of his rich voice was doing strange things to her stomach and all she could see were his fiery blue eyes staring down at her drugged and heavily lidded. She could hear the gruff whisper of his voice in her ear; feel his lips on her neck. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit!

Ami couldn't help but giggle even though she felt sorry for her friend. She was turning some pretty funny colors right now. Makoto was staring off into oblivion with stars in her eyes and muttering about old boyfriends. The blue haired genius suddenly wished she had brought her camera and personal thoughts booklet. This class was going to be amazing; especially if she counted the things actually listed on the syllabus being passed around.

"Hey, do you have a pencil I could borrow?" The blonds' thoughts crumbled at the question and she glanced over to see the boy she'd so recently assaulted. He was irritated, obviously, and bored with the reactions of his fellow classmates. Usagi coughed, trying to clear her throat as she reached for her bag again.

"Yeah, sure." There was a scoff as she reached for a spare and passed it to him.

"This guy's such a retard. If I didn't have to have this class, I'd be out of here." Dark violet eyes turned back to her as he gripped the pencil. He shot her a self-mocking smile. "I bet you love it, don't you?"

"Who, Mamoru-baka? He's a selfish jerk." She nodded, both to herself and her new friend. It was bad manners to talk about him to someone else, but she'd already stated that to herself too many times to count.

"I'm Yamashita Sasuke." he nodded, the smile more relieved now. She smiled back, nodding in turn.

"Tsukino Usagi. Pleased to meet you."

The rest of the class continued without a hitch as books were passed out and assignments were given. Usagi found it incredibly difficult to focus on anything, and was sure more than once that he'd spotted her far in the back. What would he even say? What if, through this whole ordeal, he found out who she was? What if he didn't? What if he graded her papers and flunked her on purpose! What if he singled her out in class! She'd be horrified in front of so many people!

Anxiety gnawed on every single nerve right up to the last minute of the lecture. The idea of him –seriously, of all the people who could have taught this class! – teaching her about self when he was such a selfish, egotistical pig to anyone and everyone in the whole world, it was a joke! It was a really bad joke! How could she possibly be open and honest in her papers knowing he was grading them! He'd either find out who she was and corner her about it, or worse he wouldn't catch on to anything, but would tease her mercilessly about them!

The second class was dismissed; she clutched her things tightly to her chest, scooped up the assigned book and bolted for the door. With any luck, she'd get lost in the crowd of people slowly piling up between him and freedom. The stairs seemed to jumble together as she moved, threatening to take her down with every step. Stupid! This was so stupid! If she tripped, he'd definitely notice her in a heartbeat and that would be the end of that! Hopefully, since Motoki was teaching too she could maybe talk him into keeping her enrolment a secret or something.

The stairs slid past finally, and the young blond quickly fled to the door and the waiting winter cold outside. The other two blinked in surprise, still standing close to the top of the stairs and glanced at each other. Ami sighed, reaching up to adjust her glasses. Makoto plucked at her skirt a moment, feeling suddenly awkward.

"Well, should we go cheer her up?" the blue haired girl asked finally. Mako nodded.

"Yup. You get the manga, I'll get the cocoa."

AN -So the school year is starting! YAY! And it means a few things for the readers. I will do my best to update every week, but I can say right now it's not going to always happen. So don't be surprised if I disappear for a little bit, just make sure to poke me with a stick and see if i'm still breathing every once in a while! thanks so much for the reviews, you're awesome!

E


	13. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

"As we will soon read, the context of 'self through literature' is actually more of a study of human nature through the author's characterization, and therefore an extension of their perceptions of humanity…"

The lecture stopped mid-thought as the door ripped open. Harsh winter wind whipped across the podium, sending a veil of papers launching in all directions. A loud, reverberating smack echoed across the room, followed by a sudden agonized groan erupting from the doorway. The class stared in abject horror as the slightly brownish puddle of humanity fumbled to get to it's knees. Mamoru felt a sigh rumble up from the very depths of his chest as the much ridiculed golden hair shimmered in the dim lighting.

Why did the fates hate him? Really? What on earth had he ever done to them to deserve this? It was only the second week of class!

"Oi! Usagi-chan, are you alright?" Right on cue, Motoki was already moving toward her. Mamoru bit back the urge to offer a spatula for the removal process. Instead, he simply leaned down, gripping one painfully puffy upper arm and hauling the girl to her feet. A second swipe had all her books in one hand before Motoki could reach them. The irritated man didn't bother to look at the younger girl, but instead stepped calmly back to the podium. Of all the things he could have had to deal with in this class, it just had to be her. This will be chaos.

"M-Motoki…." Usagi's wild eyed incredulity met with brief disbelief as the blond reached her side. He shrugged in confusion, motioning her to be still.

"Sh, I've got ya Usagi-chan. Just get to your seat." The baffled girl stumbled up the stairs in a bit of a daze. She could barely register the exaggerated gestures from her friends.

Mamoru hadn't laughed at her. He'd helped her up?

"What an entrance." Sasuke remarked snidely, but his brown eyes were laughing. "If only I could command attention like you do, Usagi-chan."

The golden hair wagged right and left as she all but fell into her seat between him and Ami. Motoki started in on the lecture as Mamoru spent some time organizing the jumbled mass of papers that had suddenly appeared back on the podium. Apparently there were club members in the front row.

"I hope this doesn't mean you'll fall head over heels like the rest of the sheep." He whispered quietly, and she glanced up to a wink and smirk. Shyly, not sure what the heck was going on with the class that day, she shook her head.

"Trust me, it was probably professional courtesy that saved me a sound reaming right there." She huffed a breath, blowing bangs away from her eyes. The reading assignment from the last class period had been set aside the night before, and never picked up. She'd been completely exhausted, not to mention less than enthused about early Greek mythology. What did that even have to do with the class anyway?

"Thank you, Motoki. Now, if all of you will take out the first reading assignment, we'll start class discussion." Mamoru finished, stacking the papers smartly against the podium. The rustle of book pages and murmuring filled the auditorium, and he found himself slowly scanning the isles of distracted students. Nearly every seat crowding the front was overburdened with that damn insignia of his fan club. His jaw tightened. Every single blouse front was loosened at least one button. Really?

At least they were in skirts. If anything happened, he'd trip one and run for cover.

The search continued into the middle rows, but still revealed nothing. He hadn't bothered to look even that far on the first day, no wonder she'd snuck right passed him. There, hidden far to the back and snug into the corner, the twin odango's were bent over toward him. He couldn't help the snide smirk stealing across his face. The pathetic child couldn't even handle bringing her own book to class! The first boy he'd seen in the room was sharing with her.

God, when did he get this headache?

The February night air was especially cold this year. It ran sticky fingers along lamp posts and street signs, sent chills along her spine and cackled wickedly in the frigid breeze. Gooseflesh broke across her arms as those fingers penetrated her deeply, but she didn't shudder. The Senshi uniform protected her to some degree, though usually she was fighting in it to keep warm. This particular battle had ended hours ago, the other Senshi sent home to enjoy their nights of romance respectively.

As for her, though, she preferred staring out over the city to returning home. No one would be there, and the sappy romances her mother owned really had no pull. She wanted desperately to be with him, but feared it. As always, the loneliness won out in the end, and she had made her way to a skyscraper downtown to enjoy the view. It was secluded and out of the way, she could watch the cars scuttle past on stunted legs. Her feet dangled over the side precariously, but she didn't mind. Sailor Moon could probably survive a fall like that, no matter how painful, and she was in the mood to be numb and desensitized.

It had been 8 months since Chiba Mamoru had begun the search for her. She tried to stifle the aching hollowness in her chest. Mamoru himself had left no uncertain terms between them, and the only possible end to this road was heartbreak. She just didn't know how to tell him, how to make him understand. The hope felt like less than a warm ember now. She hadn't even tried to keep her identity a secret. Any child with enough brains to put two and two together could have figured it out.

A shiver raced up her spine at the cold finally, the first since running out of her house that afternoon. It was good, though. She wanted to be cold, be frozen to everything. If only she could focus on that instead of him. Another helpless shudder gripped her small frame, more at the thought than her environment.

A heavy weight settled across her shoulders and her head flicked upward in surprise; she had been certain to choose an empty building to ensure no one would see her. His smile warmed the cool night, and her confusion shifted to a bitter half smile instead. How ironic, that she had just been thinking about him, how he would destroy her. A story he'd covered in class came to mind; a helpless young girl stolen from her home and carried deep into the underworld. She wondered faintly how the young Persephone had survived the fall without breaking.

"You Senshi need a jacket or something. You're always shivering." His comment should have made her smile; instead she turned away. Hades himself was trying to warm her? The thought was almost amusing. Mamoru had no warmth unless Moon was present. The second she'd tripped into his class late that afternoon, he should have coldly ignored her, or mocked her usual late behavior. The moment had been less than warm or ideal, yet the fact that it had even happened was shocking.

"Hey, Mamoru-san. I came up here to be alone…" she began quietly, trying to ignore the heady scent of him wafting up from the thick material slung around her shoulders. Her heart was beginning to pound in her ears. Her flesh warmed again as he settled himself beside her on the edge. She fought the blush blossoming in her face at how close he was, one leg hanging over the side to bump against hers and the other behind her back.

"Mind if I come be alone with you? I brought bribing materials." He hefted a small package in one hand familiarly, the other hand lifting the top hat free and setting it beside them on the roof. His hell-black hair sucked in the wintery light around them. The white domino mask fluttered down beside it. The silvery light from the half moon above settled across the masculine lines of his face, highlighting and shading him perfectly. She couldn't help but stare at him as he moved, the shadows of his eyes turning up from the ground. Her pulse quickened.

"Something I picked up. They're my favorites, so if you don't like them I can just take them home with me." He continued. The small box clacked against stone as he placed it in her lap gently. Soft blue eyes were drawn to the shimmering lines of swirling lettering against a dark lid. She couldn't make out the name on it from the faint moonlight above. A quick glance upward at his encouraging smile and she was reaching for the lid with hesitant fingers.

"Chocolates?" She queried in confusion, staring at the label. Inside, the shimmering fine satin lining was dark burgundy against the near black little pieces. He nodded, carefully lifting one from its resting place. She noted absently that he had removed his white gloves at some point. It made her shiver.

"Yes. It was either that or dress like Barry White and sing in Italian. I thought I'd spare you the show since I can't carry a tune." The satin black piece disappeared behind smirking lips.

"I think I would have paid a lot of money to see that." She remarked, one golden eyebrow arching in disbelief. No way in hell would the Ice King himself do such a thing, even for someone he loved.

He chuckled, dark and rich. He was laughing at what she said, not at her. The thought was comforting, since it was usually the other way around. It begged the question though, why was he so different around Moon? It was like the heartless bastard took a vacation whenever she was around. She slipped a chunk into her mouth thoughtfully. The frozen sweet warmed instantly, filling her mouth with the smooth taste of dark chocolate and hazelnut. She couldn't help but moan a little at the exquisite flavor.

"Let's just say music isn't my strong suit." He thoroughly enjoyed watching her eat those chocolates. The way her tiny mouth closed around the tips of her fingers, the fact that she let it melt slowly. A tiny shiver trembled across her slim shoulders and the soft sound escaping her. The memory of her assaulted his mind, the feel of that sound reverberating against his chest. The cold winter air was pulled her hair into interesting patters all over the black of his cape and the long, long legs hanging over the side dangled and swished in delight.

Not a word escaped her, little mouth moving slowly as the chocolate melted bit by bit. He wondered what she'd been thinking before he walked up. Her form had shaded against the gentle moonlight from above, backlit by the tower lights from below. Both arms braced on the ledge and shoulders held up tight. For a moment, he'd been afraid she'd jump and get away from him before he could break out the chocolate. He'd known he was going to have to talk fast to get her to stay after that last meeting. If her demeanor had been any indication the sweets between them was the only reason she was still sitting beside him.

"I'm sorry again, about Christmas." He murmured finally. "I didn't mean to scare you."

She nodded quietly, staring down into the streets as she nibbled at her candy. He had to admit, it wasn't the reaction he'd been looking for. Normally, a woman at least grew irritated over things like that, wouldn't she? Maybe he really had interrupted her thoughts tonight. Just the way she'd greeted him made it sound like she didn't actually know what she wanted.

"I'm sorry I cried at you. I get emotional sometimes." She whispered finally, turning to face him again. She smiled gently, her eyelashes caught in golden bangs as she blinked. The effect was a little mesmerizing. He hadn't seen hair dance quite like that before. "Thanks for the necklace. It's beautiful." She reached up to tug at the chain around her neck and brought the jet black shard out from below her neck line.

"I've never been so jealous of a rock before. Do you wear it all the time?"

She laughed and nodded, fingering the stone thoughtfully. There was something very…odd about the way she turned her head. He hadn't noticed before now, but it seemed somewhat familiar. He couldn't help but wonder how he could not seem to recognize her in the street, but that one little action could be remembered. He must not have known her much at all, since it didn't bring any names to mind. The only interaction he had with people her age was probably at Crown, and usually that time was spent with Motoki anyway.

"How well do we know each other?" he asked finally. Her feet slowed in their swing, and both eyes focused on the black shard around her neck. She didn't answer immediately, and he couldn't tell if that was a good omen or bad. Finally, a tiny sigh escaped her lips.

"Not at all." The whisper broke free finally. The black diamond shard in her hand glistened a moment in the cold moonlight as she stuffed it back in place and returned her blank stare to the city below them. Silence reigned between them several moments longer as he watched her. There was something about her, something much more familiar than he knew, but he couldn't seem to grasp what it was. Her hair was sifting through the cold winter winds and her eyes stared sightlessly below them, maybe beyond this world.

"Moon," he whispered finally, "what did you do…after I broke your heart?" She tensed and pulled away from his arms, face going blank as she wrapped both arms around herself. Even the memory of that day felt like too much, to think about how much it had hurt, how hard she'd cried…

"I…" She murmured, suddenly feeling that same ache in her chest. "I ran home, locked myself in my room. My cat was there, she thought it was normal, I guess, she just jumped out the window and ran off. I climbed up on the roof, hid behind the chimney. I cried all night, even through the rain. Caught the flu."

Oh God, how he'd crushed her. The poor girl looked so hollow, so much like she had that night last summer. Had he ever thought what an effect he had on a girl before? Was it like this with every girl he'd ever hurt? He shuddered away from the thought, remembering the terrible emptiness he'd felt on exiting the orphanage for the second time. It was like watching a broken woman take the final blow.

"I-I'm sorry." He offered quietly, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. She didn't bother to look at him as her head shook.

"It was stupid. Why would a guy like you want a homely little thing like me anyway? I'm just another one of 'them'." The bitter words slithered against the coldness around them. Mamoru scoffed, tugged at her chin to face him again.

"You are nothing like 'them', Moon. They're all money sucking little witches out to bag the big guy on campus. You are most definitely different."

"No," She whispered, shying away from his hand as a few tears leaked free. "I'm just like them. Just some stupid, pathetic girl that hoped…" she sighed, reaching up to wipe angrily at the annoying droplets. "I don't even know what I hoped. And all that's left is her… Sailor Moon. Sometimes I wish I could take a knife and cut her out of me." She finished venomously, her face red with rage and fingers tightening around her slim wrists.

"Hey! Never say that again, ok? Its part of who you are, not all of it." He leaned forward to press lips against her lowered temple in reassurance. "I'm going to take care of you, ok? Everything is going to be perfect once I find you. It's a promise."

"Yeah…when you find me…" her whimsical smile didn't fool him, he could see the doubt lingering behind the façade, could see that she had begun to fear that it might never happen. He gripped her hand tighter, raising it to his mouth and noting how cold she must be. She'd hardly shivered since his arrival, but her body temperature was strangely low. She must have been out here for hours.

"Hey. I'm going to find you." He pressed a gentle kiss against her fingers, scooting closer to wrap both arms around her protectively. Something was hurting her, something maybe that he was doing, and he didn't understand it as much as he wanted to. "Don't feel like it's not going to happen. Don't feel like I won't love you just as much, because I know I will."

She didn't return his embrace, though her head surrendered to the cushion of his chest. He felt dizzyingly warm to her frozen limbs, a safe haven from the wintery hell she'd banished herself to. As much as she wanted to just fall apart in his arms and cry, she couldn't make herself do it. How ironic, she mused to herself, for the reputed crybaby… Part of her ached to tell him; if just to see what his reaction would be to the truth. She knew, in that desperate moment, that if he was disappointed, she would simply slip over the edge and end the problem. The other part argued that to do so now, before he knew, would be so much better. At least then, she wouldn't have to actually see his disappointment, the anger…the bitter hatred. She swallowed painfully, suddenly feeling the sharp pang of awkward guilt.

"You're going to hate me so much." The broken whisper finally broke her will as the tears began to flow again. So, so pathetic! Why did she always end up crying when he was around? She struggled against his arms momentarily, instead felt the steady pressure of his hands soothing the back of her skull, his gentle shushing.

"Never. I want to be with you. I've been in love with you for years, Moon, and the more I know about you, the harder I fall." He paused long enough to press kisses to her forehead. "You're adorable and strong and brave –you kiss like a million dollar hooker, which I really can't complain about…" she eyed him suspiciously, pulling away just enough to look up at him.

"How would you know what a million dollar hooker kisses like?" Her tearful, suspicious glare was met evenly with a steady smile.

"You're also terrifyingly clever behind all that blond hair." He kissed the shell of her ear quietly as she sputtered.

"Excuse me? Don't try to change…"

"You know the best way to eat these things?" he interrupted, lifting a small circular chocolate from the box and presenting it to her smoothly. "Stolen."

"I don't see how this applies…" she began determinedly before the chocolate rolled across her lips gently.

"Bite, Moon, and I'll show you how it's done." His soft eyes betrayed nothing of his intent, though he seemed adamant to ignore her question. She eyed him speculatively, wondering at his game in the back of her mind, but the enticing smell and taste of chocolate so close proved an impossible temptation. She bit, the sweet, gummy flavors of caramel and dark chocolate rolling across her tongue exquisitely. The soft little candies began to melt the moment they touched her mouth.

Within moments, her face was angled upward and his lips crashed heavily against hers, tongue delving in to steal the piece back and neatly clean the gooey mess from her lips and mouth. It was over in seconds, him pulling away with that devil-may-care grin and her seething in the cold night air. She gasped in a breath and stared at him in shock, hardly believing he'd just done that. Though she still tasted the heady mix of chocolate and caramel, it was now mingled with his taste, and that made her lower stomach tumble in the most terrifying manner.

"You're turn." He grinned devilishly, popping the other half in his mouth. She couldn't stop staring at him in shock, that taste rolling along her tongue tantalizingly. His grin widened a little at her hesitance, and he leaned forward to press a soft kiss against her mouth. "You've missed you're opportunity, Moon. It's all melted now."

Suddenly, Usagi realized that should the impossible happen, should he find out and actually accept her as a person, she would have some serious problems to think through. Her father would kill her, and him for that matter. She found herself trying to swallow against a thick, frozen throat that squeaked childishly at the action. Her limbs weren't numb anymore, they were seething, throbbing with heated blood she knew had already painted her face; but she couldn't look away as he lifted another chocolate to her mouth.

She nibbled, raspberry crème and sickeningly sweet, before he was there again, his kiss harsh and urgent, almost satanically good as he quickly stole the small treat. His fingers grazed her face and neck, holding her possessively against his mouth as he went about his sticky, hot work. He lingered a little more this time, trailed fingers through her hair and across her cheek as he pulled away, his breathing rapid against her sensitive lips. His hands slid down her arms, latching onto the padded tops of her gloves till they tugged free from her hands.

"And your turn." He whispered, pressing the other half of gooey raspberry chocolate into her fingers. She stared at it for a second, almost afraid that by indulging in his little kissing game, she'd somehow lose her soul to him. Hesitantly, the little chocolate was lifted to his mouth and she watched, completely mesmerized, as he leaned forward to catch it, and her fingers, between his lips. In the tiny moment between her stomach dropping out and his mouth meeting hers openly, Usagi realized that she'd already lost her soul, and would probably lose everything else in the future, too.

The second the kiss was over, he gripped her hand to bring it back to his face, softly licking the melted chocolate from her fingers before pressing his lips against her palm and wrist. His eyes glittered predatorily, the taiko drum of her heart pummeled her rib cage, and her fingers burned in the cold air between them. He lifted another piece to her mouth and she gobbled it greedily, reaching up to pull his head down for a hot, burning kiss that left the piece a gooey mess between the two of them. The quick, expert strokes of his tongue didn't diminish till long after the fruity candy had been gone for some time and Usagi was infinitely glad to be sitting down.

This time, a little more confident, she stole the other half from his fingers and rolled it, cherry and all, across his mouth. He grinned wickedly, allowing her to do so before mouthing the chocolate, thumb, and forefinger as she shifted to straddle the ledge as he had done. Deliberately, she licked at his lips, suckled softly at the cherry cream, and allowed the chocolate to melt thoroughly before taking her time to clean up the mess. He groaned, utterly enjoying the experience of her soft little tongue delving almost demandingly in his mouth, rubbing against his till he thought he'd go crazy.

And then it was over, and she receded back to sit happily on the ledge. He gulped in an unsteady breath, raggedly wondering if he'd somehow missed a clasp or something last Christmas. Fate certainly couldn't be all that cruel to him, now could it?

"You catch on pretty quick." He murmured quietly, eyes roving her form for any clue to how she de-transformed. The suit was seamless, though; flawless on her perfect body. His jaw clenched painfully as he reminded himself that despite all conclusions to the contrary, Sailor Moon was definitely young. The thought did nothing to dampen his spirits as she drew his cape around her petite shoulders and settled herself down to reach for another chocolate.

"Oh, how sad…" she whimpered, bringing him out of his stupor to note that the box was empty. The adorable pout on her face was enough to make anyone chuckle.

"Trust me, Moon, I got the small box for a reason." She glanced up from the package, slightly miffed at his confession. He settled himself closer to her, arms traveling around her tiny waist till she was flush against his front. "Maybe when you're older, I'll get us a big one that will last us a week or so." He bent, sending a trail of butterfly kisses along her neck.

"That would be a lot of chocolate." She commented breathily, fingers tangling in his hair as he flicked his tongue against her collarbone. He chuckled at her words, slowly working his way back up her neck as his fingers trailed along her arm lightly. Her breath quickened, pulse beating a tattoo against her throat at the feel of his tongue rolling across her skin, the soft, almost fluttering attentions of his lips. She suddenly felt so warm, almost dreamy in his arms as they tightened, his soft mouth as it fused to her skin. She couldn't help the throaty whimper as the butterflies in her stomach tumbled in response to him.

"Mamoru-san," she gulped "wait, please."

He paused instantly, tightening his arms around her as the breath sucked into his lungs again. A slow grimace of will furrowed his brow. She was trembling already, and it was will alone that stopped him. He'd been selfish last time, and had felt guilty for months about it. No way would he make the same mistake twice, especially now that she wasn't fighting against him.

"You're so different. I don't understand how you… You're just…"she struggled momentarily with the thoughts racing through her skull. He was nothing like the jerk he'd been last summer. There was no hint of the selfish man he'd been over Christmas either. "You're not you."

The statement settled like bile in the pit of his stomach.

"What do you mean?" the sweet, salty taste of her skin lingered. He wanted to give in to it again; even as he spoke the words they hovered just barely above the fresh alabaster neck. Anything but talk about that subject. She pushed away, enough to stare at the street below.

"You're usually much more…"

"Bastard?" he tossed in nonchalantly. She gulped, obviously reigning in the word. "Yeah, I'm working on that."

"oh," the tiny sound held a hint of curiosity and confusion. Her mind was churning beneath the wind-tumbling locks. The glittering golden strands billowed before her heart shaped face in the breeze. The silky gloss finish evaded his outstretched fingers as he reached for them.

"What?" he asked quietly. She was still staring at the street below them in silence, brow furrowed.

"I…heard a story from a friend. It just struck me as very odd." curious blue eyes rose to meet him, locking against his as he swept the rest of her hair back. The shadows and moonlight were a perfect mix from this angle. It was a wonder he could sit this close to her, stare into her face, and not have that strange fuzziness draw across his mind.

"About me?" She nodded. "And?" he queried, fingers twirling in impossible long locks. He couldn't count as many times as he'd wondered if her hair really was this long and blond.

"What?" She was obviously trying to hide something. Even sitting on the ledge, she suddenly seemed a little too intent on the roads below them. Staring listlessly downward, her face tilted downward to hide from the gentle touch of the moon above them. More distance from her; he wondered if she would ever be the girl she was before all of this started.

"I can't verify it if I don't know." He whispered finally. Her fingers flicked at some invisible speck on her skirt as she began to breathe slowly again. He was almost positive she hadn't been this tense earlier tonight.

"My friend tripped in your class," the statement was made a smidge too casually for his taste, and he all but pounced on the thought. "…usually you just laugh…"

"How do you know her?" the sharp interruption caught her off guard. His fingers sought her face, turning it back toward his steady gaze. She gulped, staring widely at him. There was no small amount of guarded fear in the silvery blue gaze before him, and suddenly his mind was churning.

"She's a friend."

He forced the grim smile from his face, pushing gentle fingers through her head again. He was scaring her, but not by attitude so much as subject. Why would she be so protective suddenly when her mind had been engaged elsewhere. He tried to stream his thoughts together in a steady, mildly curious question. Too late, the ideas were beginning to form at her terrified expression.

"Does she know who you are?"

"Why, so you can go interrogate her?" her tone was pointed, even confrontational. He grinned in response to it and pressed a kiss to her cheek. The little minx had let something slip, and he'd be stupid not to follow the lead.

"Maybe." He smiled mischievously, winking at her. She was quiet for a moment. This time, lacing the words with good humor, he continued. "You're just out to avoid me altogether, aren't you?"

"Maybe." She grumbled, but didn't resist when he pulled her closer and pressed her head to his chest. He chuckled.

"I love you." he whispered quietly, pressing kisses to her head.

"…I love you, too."

"What the hell do you want?" The harsh young voice ripped the moment the solid thud of the door hit. Mamoru tried consciously not to grind his teeth in agitation. Last night had started something inside of him. Even though he knew that going back here of all places would not answer any real questions for him, he had to try.

"Umi, quit acting like a badass. You're 8." He turned, hardly glancing at the boy as he reached for a chair. "Now, I have a few things I want to talk about, and I'm not leaving till I get answers. For starters, how did you meet Tsukino Usagi?"

The boy stood completely still in the middle of the room, hand still gripping a crumpled piece of grubby paper. His face was a blank mask, his fingers screwed tight against the sheet with such intense ferocity that the knuckles bled white.

"I don't have to tell you."

"You do, and you will. I am not leaving until I have some answers, and you are not moving from this spot until you give them." Menace seethed from every inch of him. He towered darkly over the room, blocking the door from any form of escape. Umi's face screwed up tight.

"I'll scream for the caretaker!"

"She took the kids to the park. Now what?" He leaned back against the door and folded both arms across his chest.

"I'll tell her you touched me!" He screamed, pointing his finger threateningly. Mamoru stifled the evil cackle spawning in the back of his throat. Children could be so predictable.

"I have a camera set up so she can watch the whole encounter."

"You're evil."

"Yes, I am. Now, where did you meet Tsukino Usagi?" Mamoru asked quietly. The somber little boy glanced down at his bed, shaggy brown hair stubbornly jutting off in all directions. His smile returned, soft and wistful through the pain.

"Shingo was my roommate. When they came to pick him up, she played with me."

"Who's that?" Mamoru shook his head in mild irritation. He hadn't asked about some boy, had he?

"Her younger 'brother', idiot!"

Everything began to click into place somewhere in the back of his mind. The flat of his back hit the door as a soft whistle escaped.

"That's…unexpected. I didn't realize her brother was adopted."

Umi snorted and folded his arms, this time in defiance.

"So was she."


	14. Chapter Twelve

AN: Sorry to repost. Needed some notes in here. Also, I needed to fix the scene changes. Still the same chapter though.

First and foremost, HAPPY VALENTINES DAY! Hope you all enjoy the gift I got you. It's not a super expensive set of chocolates on a rooftop, nor is it a hot man dressed like Barry Manilow. However, it did take a long, long time for me to write.

Second, I hope you're all signed up for updates on other stories, because I'll probably be posting weekly or bi-weekly shorts of multiple kinds, just to get them out there. Soulbound is SO CLOSE to being completely written! I'm stoked! Too bad it has to go through so much editing! Blah! On that note, a special thanks to my editors DaBlackRose and Temporary Insane for helping out with this, and also my dear sweet sister for being my plot bunny.

I also would like to send a huge shout-out to my long time and much loved reviewers Bin82501, SM Twilight, Championofjustice27, TokyoLi, Crazy-sox something (sorry), Rakusa, srsmoon, piperice, and a million others (sorry I can't mention everyone here!) You guys are so awesome! I'm glad to see that this has sparked some thought and some introspection, and I really hope you stick around for the end. Trust me, you will love it!

I hope you all are ready for the throw-down, because this is the end of the buildup chapters, and now we get to the good part! I probably won't update till next month, but keep an eye out for the shorts! I love you all, and please keep reading and reviewing!

E

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Chapter Twelve

"It's March already." The heady spring sun was already high in the air, and the warm breeze wafted through the open window to his left. The change in weather was perfect timing, as the semester dragged on and on into the distance. The workload was intense, especially with that extra credit course. The stack of useless thoughts drowned the table before them in a sea of what had been time, effort, and eventually frustration.

If he had to read one more essay on how Gucci defined womanhood, he'd puke.

"I noticed that much." Mamoru replied, quickly marking his thoughts in the side margin. "Why are there so many girls in this class? It's not even remotely feminine." The paper was tossed uncaringly into a cardboard box at his side before he reached for another. Motoki sighed, setting his current project down and rubbing his face.

"Only you would try to be logical with high schoolers." The blond smiled ruefully, folding both hands beneath his chin. "Besides, they like you Mamoru-kun. You're lucky they don't jump you on the way to the parking lot."

"That's because I'm not dumb enough to park here. Ugh, do you want this one? It's Odango's." Mamoru asked quietly, holding the smudged and stepped-on loose leaf between thumb and forefinger. It dangled and folded a moment, revealing more scribbles than space. "Most people type these things, what the hell?"

"Here, I'll take it." A slim, pale hand snatched the paper from his sight. The blond had a fond smile on his face as he spread the page carefully across the flat table. Large European eyes skimmed the words as a mindless hand reached for the chip bag. Mamoru couldn't help but stare a little, mind whirring thoughtfully.

"Oi, Motoki. Is it weird being an American in Japan?" The darker man reached for another stack and repositioned the red pen in his right hand. Motoki didn't even glance up from the assignment.

"I'm Japanese, Mamoru. Family's been here for generations. Also, we're not American."

"Where are you from then? I mean historically." A jet black brow arched in interest as he began correcting the sheet before him. Really, some people just could not grasp the idea of a semicolon! At least it wasn't about a name brand. He thanked the heavens for the respite silently.

"We're French. Why do you think I have this outrageous accent?" His pale face was smirking as he spoke, and his fingers twirled an invisible handlebar mustache.

"Um…what?" The solemn man found himself staring in awkward confusion at the stranger before him. How had he ever made friends with such a weird guy?

"Ha…nevermind." Motoki kept chuckling despite the dismissal. He was already on the second page, and Mamoru found himself wondering when that pen was going to surrender. "Why so curious all the sudden?" the sheet crinkled while he wrote in a solid 55% at the top of the sheet. Well, at least he wasn't being unfair in the grading process.

"Did you know Usagi's adopted?" The dark man asked suddenly, face deadly serious. The wind pounded against the thin windows of the arcade like battering rams in the following silence. The blond turned his face up in shock and denial, both hands slamming down on the table.

"Oh my god! The blond girl? With native Japanese parents? ADOPTED?" the barely suppressed mirth in his friend's eyes was enough to irritate.

"Shut up. Does she know?" The usually sarcastic man couldn't help but scoff at the sudden change, rolling his eyes heavenward. Gods, if Motoki could hear how awful he was, he'd never attempt such an anti-social feat again.

"Of course she knows. Shingo is too." The arcade manager shifted out of his seat and leaned across the table to select a few more scraps of torture from the slowly diminishing pile.

"You'd never guess looking at her."

"…She's blo…." Motoki froze mid-movement, his face twisted in confusion. Mamoru waved it off, marking a grade and placing the finished essay down in the finished stack.

"No, I mean her personality." Mamoru seemed lost in thought, brushing invisible specks from the current project as his eyes stared lifelessly across the room. The slightly younger, yet infinitely more curious man wondered exactly what was going through that head. His ponderously scowling bestie had been thoroughly scarred by his upbringing; and Usagi seemed as normal and perfectly attached as any other kid. The fact that they'd come from similar backgrounds must have thrown the previously desolate orphan for a loop. A thoughtful smile spread across the arcade manager's mouth as he considered the subtle shift in his friends usually dark countenance.

As much as he would love to hear some sort of secret confession from his best friend about the girl, he knew it wouldn't actually happen. Mamoru had no idea what was going on, and had already set himself against the thought of Usagi. It bothered him to wonder what would happen if he did figure it out before coming to terms with his more worrying tendencies. Nothing would make Motoki give up her secret; not until the man across from him was truly ready for her anyway. Someone as abrasive and angry as the brooding figure at the other side of the table would do nothing but crush the life out of his 'little sister.'

"Why does it bother you? You know you're not the only orphan in the whole world."

"Please, like I would think that." The onyx black hair bobbed up once, rife with disdain before turning downward again.

"I don't know, you get that way sometimes." The light scribbling of a pen filled the short space between them while Motoki shook his head. "Does this mean you'll be cutting the girl some slack?" He asked finally, trying to get to the meat of the issue. How had she come up again? He couldn't remember…

"Of course not. She's still Odango Atama." To this, the blond rolled his eyes heavenward and turned back to the task at hand. Really, to be so close and yet so far away...his friend was really a moron sometimes. "Have you talked to her recently?"

Motoki could tell almost instantly that the conversation was _not_ over. Usagi's arch nemesis had never, under any circumstance, been interested in her activities outside of face to face interaction. A tiny thrill of fear coiled somewhere deep in his lower back as he cleared his throat nonchalantly.

"Sure. We had dinner the other night."

The shock of words slapped Mamoru harder than he thought they would, jumping the suddenly atrophied muscles with a painful shock. It was the reaction more than what was said that surprised him more, though. The abrupt tenseness in his shoulders felt horrifically oppressive; and the effect it had on his head was even worse. He shifted, trying to find a better position; all the while eyeing his best friend in concern. Usagi was…a child. Going to dinner with someone their age would probably look like child porn or something. Not appropriate. Not with a 12 something girl…

"Don't give me that look, it was a double family thing. Unazuki was there too." The blond absently shooed with his hand, but he seemed nervous, too. Mamoru couldn't help the answering smirk, saying nothing. It was obvious in the open book of his friends face that there was an uncomfortable moment before he spoke again. When he did, it came out harsh, and strangely defensive. "Why so talkative all the sudden? Usually you can't even spare a few words for the girl and I'm getting the third degree."

Was it just his imagination, or was the suddenly jumpy man across from him sweating? It was almost obvious in the sudden furtive movements of blue eyes over paper, room, and finally him, that Mamoru realized he'd hit something. He quickly pulled his poker face on and turned back to his work as if the massive overreaction had never happened.

"She just seems very…well connected." A tiny glimmer of sweat sparkled somewhere by the arcade manager's temple. It took more effort than usual to squash the growing smirk from his mouth.

"How so?" a large blue eye twitched just noticeably.

"Something Moon said the other night. I think Usagi might know who she is."

All out panic erupted despite best efforts against them. The paper was thrown down, both feet slammed into the ground. European blue eyes came within inches of his face, filled to the brim with concern, panic, and perhaps all-out fear.

"I forbid you to speak to her!" He bellowed, skin reddening harshly. The obsessed man blinked in surprise. "Yes, Mamoru-kun. Forbidden. You have put her through 7 degrees of Hell, you are _not_ going to start again." There was a forefinger in his face. Had he considered the ridiculous man capable of hurting anything, he would probably have laid him out painfully on the tiles already.

"I won't hurt her." He stacked the assignments carefully on one knee, and promptly ignored the sight.

"Ha!" Motoki huffed indignantly, slapping the papers aside in frustration. "Even mentioning your name at dinner and her father's reaching for his 10 gauge. I am not picking your butt up at the morgue just because of a hunch!" The chair squeaked in protest as he flopped himself back into it tiredly. Mamoru tsked.

"Wow. No wonder the girl doesn't date." He bent, shuffling together the few papers his overly-excited best friend had managed to knock out of his hand. It gave him a chance to review thoughtfully. Strike one had been the obvious secret his friend was keeping from him poorly. Strike two had been the blow-up. Motoki had had plenty of chances to stand up for the Odango in times past. Considering that he hadn't exactly been forthcoming with that defense when they were fighting, it was more than evident that something bigger was going on.

It was just beginning to dawn on him that not only did the strange girl probably know Moon personally, but that Motoki probably had a clue himself. The thought was utterly maddening. Obviously, the irritatingly informed man was unwilling to share the information, even after seeing exactly what it was putting him through. His eyes slanted dangerously even as the last paper was retrieved from the ground and set in the pile. Why would he continue to pretend he didn't know?

It hurt to realize his friend would keep something so obviously important from him. He had to bite back the urge to erupt in furious, self righteous zeal at the revelation. After all, he didn't exactly have proof of this hidden knowledge. The air reeked of it. The shifty, angry set of a usually upturned mouth all but screamed it. Still, this was not the rock solid evidence he would want to come to any sort of definite conclusion. Instead, as with many things, he waited. Either his teaching partner would cave and relinquish his hold on certain bits of valuable information, or Mamoru would have to get inventive in the near future. He would have to calculate his next moves with this in mind, and more importantly, he'd have to wait. A true friend would be forthcoming when the time was right, wouldn't he?

"Hey, what's this? College of botanical science?" the bright voice drifted over the tabletop just as Mamoru was straightening, sending a shock across his skin and his hand rocketing forward.

"What? Here, let me look at it." A moment later the large white envelope was torn from Motoki's grasp and eagerly settled at the bottom of the pile.

"What is it?" The blond asked curiously, trying to peer through both the assignments and the mysterious white shield. Mamoru shrugged.

"Just something. Don't worry about it."

He had three days to finish grading these, but with midterms looming he hardly wanted to wait. The conspicuous weight in his lap felt wearily heavy, and bulged with much anticipated information. It took every ounce of self will not to tear the fragile blank cover to pieces and devour its precious contents.

The tall white rose had been a mystery he could not solve on his own. Even after hours of going over botanical textbooks dedicated to roses, none of them matched his Christmas gift. There were hundreds of species that held white petals and heart-shaped leaves. But none could have glowed in moonlight, or could drive away the strange dreams. He hadn't experienced one since receiving the flower. The great, bushing plant was the sole bit of life in his apartment, and had caused him to wonder more than once where she'd gotten it.

The second Motoki rose to take a bathroom break, the envelope was ripped savagely and voided like a childhood piñata. The extensive report slid, perhaps even hissed, out of the cover and into his waiting hands. He quickly spread the sheets out, scanning the first few lines in his head. Some few words stuck out in the jumble, 'unknown species', 'anomalies', and 'unlinked DNA'.

He set the packet down to lean back far in the seat. The sudden weariness of the ages seemed to dust across his burning eyes. It was so exhausting, always searching and never finding. The tension in his shoulders and back screamed for rest, but some part of him couldn't drop it. The damn flower was connected to her, it was a clue. He just couldn't find the link. There had to be something else he was missing. Why would she give it to him if not to help in the search?

"Oi, Mamoru-kun, you alright?" Motoki's concerned voice appeared in the doorway, shocking the tired man out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry, just tired." He rubbed, wishing his eyes would just stop aching. The letter was open on the table, and he just didn't seem to care anymore. He wanted… so much more than they had given him. He'd wanted them to work miracles, find her for him. Of course that was impossible; he shouldn't have even wished it.

"Is it bad news?" The blond inclined his head toward the stack of paper sitting atop the grading like a tombstone. Mamoru glanced at it and shrugged. If nothing else, he could read through the expanded report later when he got home.

"Don't know yet." Mamoru's shoes scuffed at the floor thoughtfully. She had cried the last time he saw her. Not just any cry, either. She'd been terrified of him finding her. She'd been terrified of him. That knowledge wedged a knife of guilt in his soul he couldn't ignore. If she reacted the same way face to face, he didn't know what he would say to her. "What else can I do, Motoki? She's still scared of me."

"Have you been working with Umi?" His friend asked quietly, leaning back on the doorjamb and rubbing between his shoulder blades. Mamoru nodded wordlessly, they'd already discussed the orphan, and he wasn't going to reiterate. "Have you been working on being nice?"

Mamoru sighed. That would always be the question, wouldn't it? Motoki settled himself across the table and folded his hands casually in front of him. The pose screamed interrogation. Mamoru couldn't help the ironic smile.

"Yes and no. I'm trying." In reality, he sucked at it. He'd given up a seat on the bus the other day, and the girl had tried to follow him home. It had been quick thinking alone that saved the awkward situation from getting worse when he ditched her at a coffee shop. That was why he couldn't be nice, because they just assumed he was interested.

But Moon had been so affected by Odango's story that it obviously was doing some good, despite the drawbacks. Even Mamoru hadn't really thought first before helping her up or anything; he'd been more focused on teaching, or at least getting the distraction out of the way. He should have considered it as an act of kindness rather than a quick fix, obviously Moon did. It was just like Motoki had said, reactions more than actions.

"Do me a favor, ok? Next time you see someone who really needs help –even if it's something dumb- just help. You might see something in yourself you didn't before." His friend was stacking papers together carefully as he spoke.

It seemed to defy logic. Motoki knew something, and he wasn't saying what it was. On one hand, Mamoru understood the point that he could be an ass, and that doing so had really hurt Moon a lot. What he couldn't get through his cranium was why Motoki wouldn't just tell him who she was so that Mamoru could find a way to make it up to her. Instead, it was all about the wild goose-chase, Umi, and being nice to people. The frustration sizzled behind a cool look and a nod. He would have to try and do it Motoki's way. He just hoped and prayed fervently that his painfully informed friend would mess up and let something slip.

"Ok."

Motoki went back to grading, and Mamoru stared intently at a crack in the tile. He already felt as though he had worked so hard to reach her, and it was only functioning on a basic level. She never would have cuddled with him in the past, and she definitely hadn't wanted him anywhere near her last summer. Their willing make-out session over valentines was more than enough to prove that he was making progress, but was it enough?

He envisioned, just for a second, the warrior. The image held a lot of great things, but it was the feeling that set it apart from any other girl he could have thought of. She was shy at times, playful and fun; she had a great love for life and everyone in it. It made him smile thoughtfully to include himself in that list, no matter how much of a jerk he'd been to her in the past. The most indescribable warmth filled him to think of her, and it left an aftertaste of hope lingering as it did. Valentines proved she was terrified of him, but certainly not enough to just continue shoving him away either.

Somewhere, deep down, he felt perhaps more than just hope.

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* * *

Lightning split the sky in an arc that shattered the cloudy mirror to a million pieces. Soothing rain fell in torrents across his upturned face. A pure, sweet smell lifted and purged the recent darkness from his soul, washed him clean beneath gentle fingers. The park lay in all its wet splendor, the livid green grass as welcoming as any postcard he'd ever seen. A smile of quiet appreciation lit his face at the sight of children jumping puddles farther along the path. Thousands of tiny clear diamonds leapt upward with each hearty jump and resulting laughter. His heart throbbed in loneliness at the sight, and he wished his little blond were here to enjoy it. She loved kids.

Thunder ricocheted across the small park, and sent the children skittering off toward shelter. Their terrified screams caused a boyish grin to light on his face. To be so young and carefree, not worry whether or not your world would change tomorrow or wonder why the world seemed to hate you…

No, he wouldn't think about that. Somewhere, hiding in this god-forsaken city, was a girl who made all of those feelings disappear with a soft look. He wouldn't allow the darkness to take that from him.

Another lightshow ripped the sky into shreds, sent fleeting bolts of energy to break the dim park in pieces with jagged shards of light. He sighed deeply, breathed the healing air and allowed the rain to wash across him. His eyes were no longer shadowed, no longer haunted by a past fate had thrust on him. Now, more than anything, the hope wasn't just bearable, but palpable when he thought of her. What was she doing right now? Where was she, outside -playing in the rain, maybe?

The rumbling thunder brought a new sound with it this time, a shrill scream that stopped him in his tracks. Dark eyes shot toward the sound, his feet already moving toward it. A peculiar tightness gripped his chest, and added to his bafflement as he slowed to a stop on the other side of the park. There was no Youma in sight, and certainly nothing out of place going on. It seemed empty, even as he scanned the grounds to find the young woman. There, beneath the shadow of a large tree, sat a rumpled figure too dark to make out between the brief lighting the sky provided. He moved closer slowly, watching for any sign of an attack. The Enemy could just as easily lure in its victims like this…

From this vantage point, he could easily see dark blond locks of hair dripping down her drenched form and his heart thrummed hard against his chest…if it were her… The lightning crashed again, closer this time as the bone jarring sound shattered the soft pattering of rain against the tree above them. The girl shuddered visibly, her mud-spattered clothes all but obliterating the small form. The effect was pathetic, and tugged somewhere deep in his chest to see. He stepped forward, shoes sloshing through the wet grass to reach her side. His fingers brushed against her shoulder imploringly, flinching backward as her body shuddered away from him and startled blue eyes rose from white fabric.

"O-Odango?" he asked confusedly. Her teeth were chattering with cold, her legs were drawn up beneath a girlish pink skirt and the pigtails hung straight to the ground beside her. He quickly shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, kneeling down in the sopping grass. She looked at him guardedly, eyes dark and cold. The burning urge to spew questions at the girl faded the moment it begun, seeing the darkness, and fear in her eyes. A grim smile touched his face as he sighed and shook his head. "Come on, then. Let's get you dried up."

She stared at his hand dumbly, as if it were a foreign object she didn't understand before resolutely burying her face in her arm again.

"Go away, Mamoru-baka. I don't want your help." Her firm words were much less effective as deep crack of thunder rumbled close by. The tiny girl shuddered, shrieking in terror as she clung helplessly to the rough trunk. He glanced upward at the billowing grey clouds, and the droplets of water splashing down from the tree above. The storm was only getting worse with time, and he definitely didn't feel right about leaving her out here alone.

"Oi, Odango, you planning to freeze out here? Because if so, I want my jacket back." He teased gently, hoping a return to their usual banter might smooth things over.

"Then take it, you jerk! I didn't ask for it anyway." She shrugged the jacket free as if it were nothing more than a nuisance and buried her face in her arm, dismissing him entirely. He breathed deeply, allowing the slight irritation to fade away. Odango had no reason to trust him. He had been unnecessarily mean before.

"I was joking, Odango. What do you think you're doing, anyway? Well, other than trying to kill yourself with pneumonia." Glowering eyes flicked upward again, partially hidden by the mat of golden bangs. She was quiet for a while. The jean jacket she had on looked bulky at first, but on closer inspection, the fabric was just puffed away from the skin somehow.

"My dad told me that he couldn't take me seriously as long as I was afraid of thunder." She answered finally, her voice soft. There was a certain set of steeliness to it, as if she were daring him to comment on the ridiculous phobia. One shadow black eyebrow arched in interest. She stiffened further. "Don't tease me, you jerk. I'm terrified of it."

For once in all the time they'd fought, Mamoru didn't have to bite back a snide comment. She looked tired and cold. The half-light deepened the shadows beneath her eyes, making her thin face seem almost skeletal in the gloom. He wasn't sure if it was pity or compassion he felt tugging from within.

"You know that trees attract lightning, right?" he asked quietly, without a hint of sarcasm.

"They _what_?!"

.

* * *

Mamoru fumbled with his keys for a moment before the heavy wood door finally fell open. Stepping through, he shrugged off the jacket and carefully hung it next to the others on the peg before setting his keys on the coffee table. The apartment was clean, as always, and no longer lacked the human touch. The Lunarian Snow Rose graced his front room like a crowning jewel in the sunlight. It was flanked by books and dwarfed beside the massive oak shelves to either side. The dim, stormy sunlight filtered through grey clouds to settle in ghostly wisps across the plant.

Behind him, tiny little footsteps slowed and stopped. Curious, he turned just enough to watch Odango pause hesitantly a step outside the door. Her bangs were plastered against her face, body completely smothered in her large jean jacket. All of these things were less important than what he saw in the shadows of her eyes. He had to repeat the thought before it would register in his mind. Bubbly, bright Odango had shadows in her eyes, and they were filled with hesitance and fear.

"Oi! Not scared, are you?" he joked, hoping to lighten up the mood a little. But it was strange for him, too. It had been over a year since a girl of any age graced the apartment. There had never been anything loving between them; at least from his end. The rechristening of the place was oddly poetic. Why wouldn't it be the one girl hell bent on pissing him off from the start to break the cycle? Usagi would, of course, remain oblivious to this. In reality she hadn't tried to make him angry so much as make him go away. It was so different from the old days –she was different. Every time he saw her, something changed; just like now when the shadows faded back and her tongue stuck out childishly.

"No way, Baka! It's just…" she paused, shaking herself thoroughly before marching into the room as if she'd never had a problem to begin with. Mamoru couldn't help but grin a little at the nickname, it had been ages since he'd heard her say it. Hell, it had been a long time since he'd seen her; months at least. He'd been so wrapped up with the situation with Moon, he had hardly thought of their daily fights. Those days felt so far away then, as if they had never really happened. For some unexplainable reason, that bothered him a little.

"Come sit by the fire." He turned, walking toward the artificial hearth and turning the heat on. It had cooled down enough in the apartment to warrant a little more warmth, and she was chilled to the bone. He glanced back, watching her turn around to take in the view of his quiet, reserved home. It was sparse as far as decorations were concerned, but he didn't have time for it between fighting, schooling, and his upcoming internship. The only sign of life blazed from the frost white rose standing beside the mantle.

"Here, let me take your coat." The girl was backing slowly toward him, staring out over the balcony. The first brush of his fingers against the stiff jean material of her jacket sent the girl skittering across the room. The wide, terrified eyes and hampered breathing sent his mind reeling as she clutched the thick material to her body. "Oi, Odango…"

"Sorry." She mumbled quickly and began fumbling with the soaked material. Even as wet as it was, her clothing seemed baggy and childish, he thought. She was tiny in comparison. Great strands of fairytale golden hair clung to her, her clothing, and the jacket all at once. It proved a factor as she thoughtfully unwound it from the buttons. The pale, trembling fingers fumbled without order, and her teeth were chattering.

She must be frozen. After the initial reaction, he was less inclined to try to get close enough to help with the labored process. For an uncertain moment, he watched her struggle before finally turning to grab a towel. By the time he'd turned back, she had already peeled the sticky Levi material from one arm, and was busy tugging at the other when he held the bundle toward her awkwardly.

"Shower's on the right."

He didn't want to look at her. She seemed so haggard and small, and lost in the fold s of her sopping clothing. Her face seemed shadowed and gaunt, almost too thin. A guilty lance formed somewhere below the ribs as he thought back to the things Motoki had said. The feelings of guilt were still virtually new. He'd understood on a clinical stance what it was, but this wasn't some detached explanation of burning responsibility. Little Odango stood before him looking more like the orphan she was than the girl he knew. And he was in part responsible for smashing that light.

The bunching folds of her clothing squished as the door slid home with a solid thud, just loud enough to echo in the silent apartment. Even her socks were soaked through. He eyed the heavy, dark steps in the carpet toward the hallway and felt a tiny shudder somewhere in his lower back. The burning sense of guilt faded the moment the door had closed, the pit in his stomach slowly subsided.

He gulped, not sure when the breath had frozen inside him. Usagi did not look so good. Well, he amended to himself, she looked tired anyway. All this talk of guilt, and it probably had more to do with school work and midterms than anything he might have said. Still, the ghost of responsibility tickled at his inner ear. Her childlike features seemed more drawn and stressed than he'd ever seen them before. They had gone from childish, silly even, to something much more strained.

He'd never understood her really. The truth of her past made it all the more troublesome, as she could easily have been more like him than he knew. It spoke volumes of her parents, and, he admitted grudgingly, of her. She hadn't reacted to him the same way others did. She hadn't flirted or wheedled or whined. She'd stood her ground despite anything mean he might have said. For that, a faint whiff of pride began to gnaw at the back of his mind. Usagi was different, and she didn't act like most girls when it came to him. And, he was almost positive that she knew exactly who Moon was.

It was strangely reminiscent, come to think of it. Both displayed moments of childishness, and suddenly Odango had a darker side. Maybe her relationship with Moon had sparked this new facet. Maybe her worry had nothing at all to do with him. It was possible, and even likely that she knew how to get in contact with the Senshi. He drew in a deep breath, eyeing the small footsteps thoughtfully. Within moments, his eyes saw only pale wood and a bronze doorknob.

The bathroom door loomed across his vision, and his arm ached with the desire to reach up and knock. But he didn't remember walking over here, and he certainly didn't have anything to say to her; well, other than getting a number for his obsession. He blanched.

Gods, Motoki had said to do nice things, not wring information from children!

Something deep within him hardened with resolve as the thought struck home. She was very young. Just a kid. And she lived in a fantasy world. She was like… sleeping beauty or something; just waiting around while the real world passed her by. Someday, some guy would ask her out and Mamoru would be forgotten.

Her clothes materialized in front of the door while he'd been thinking. How odd! He must have really been out of it to miss her inching the door open right in front of him. He bent to lift the bundle, gasping in shock at the sudden protest of tense muscles screaming at him. He sucked in a surprised and painful gulp of air, glancing at his body as if he'd never seen it before.

"I'm working out too much." The muttered comment came without another thought as the laundry room door opened with a creek. Her clothing was oddly stiff, he noted. Curiosity bloomed at the sight of white thread hanging from the dark jean material. He laid the sopping mass down and reached for the hem of her jacket. On further inspection, it seemed as finished as any store-bought garment. The lining was dark indigo, and the threads matched the shade; all but this one little tail of white. He tugged thoughtfully on it, and was rewarded with a shift inside the lining.

Weird! He needed sleep! Why was he staring at this badly constructed piece of clothing like a pedophile! In disgust, he shoved the mess into the dryer and started it on high. The jumbled remnants of his thoughts fled beneath the constant churning and humming of the machine at work. He shook his head, disgusted with himself for being so out of it all the sudden, and padded toward the coffee machine.

With a hot mug in hand, he found himself once again standing before the white rose, eyes stuck resolutely on the ever-youthful bud. The scent of it was heady; it filled the apartment with something not quite real, not quite from this planet. After all the searching he had done, modern knowledge could not explain the strange flower. Even the college of botany was baffled by the existence of it. He had never even heard of its mention in stories or myth. But there it was, just the same: forever young and beautiful. It stood nearly five feet tall, the single stalk branching with leaves as if it wanted to be a bush instead. The roots spread like spider webs across the inside surface of the glass globe that held it.

And in the light of the moon, it glowed silver. How could any mortal woman have gotten her hands on it? He knew with every fiber of his being that Sailor Moon had given it to him; he had never questioned that. But where had she gotten it from? Or better yet, from whom? He couldn't help but wonder, vaguely, if she knew the princess.

His mind traced back to every time she had given a royal command. With every entrance, Moon all but challenged her adversary with an unmistakably regal tone. Her stance was proud, shoulders drawn back and eyes steady and stern. She fought valiantly and bravely, despite her young age and obvious hesitance. She sacrificed her own fears and faults on an altar made of love and respect for everyone around her. She showed an almost inhuman ability to withstand even the largest temptation, showing her judgment was not hampered by selfish justifications.

Moon would make one hell of a princess.

He had never been a fan of prissy, whiny girls. From all the things he'd seen in his life, this was all it really took to be considered a princess these days. But something deep down whispered that once upon a time that was not the case. Someone born to it would have been more refined, more capable of both rule and protection. There would have been a regal thoughtfulness to their words, and a deep concern for the people they served.

The rose stared silently back, giving no answers to his thoughts. The sudden memory of a child's story surfaced from the murky depths of his mind. A curse and a rose; the dreaded voice of a witch stalking the darkness. A prince once arrogant and removed lost to the form of a beast, and a kind-hearted woman given the ultimate challenge. It had also been about change, becoming more than just an heir. The similarity between them was a bit ironic actually, now that he thought about it. Hadn't the selfish man scorned the old hag because she wasn't beautiful? He thought back quietly to all the times he had laughed in amused hatred of the people around him, of the world at large.

It was not beautiful, it was not desirable. The only powers he could have known till now were greed, corruption, and ambition. The woman, this ethereal being capable of looking past the surface, could see the potential of a prince, of a future king. It was her love that eventually broke the curse, and freed a now repentant monarch from his grisly form.

The parallel was too obvious. The cursed being had lost all the things which the woman would find attractive; looks, power, and money. He had squandered it away on selfish whim. In the end, it was the final act of selflessness that nearly killed him, and paved the way for the spell to be broken. To give up the one thing you wanted most in the world meant leaving things to chance. It meant a race against time, hoping and praying that she would love him.

"Before the last petal falls..." He whispered, reaching forward to touch the relic with reverence. She was so close; he could almost feel her presence in the apartment. The rose crackled with power, the tingling sensation at the tips of his fingers proved the point. That had never happened before when he'd almost touched it, and certainly never in broad daylight. She must be nearby-he thought dazedly- he could almost hear her in the back of his mind.

"It's beautiful." Usagi murmured from the doorway, derailing the runaway train of his thoughts. He turned, eyeing the young blond uncertainly.

"Yes."

She must have had an extra pair of clothes hidden away somewhere since the sound of the dryer churning in the background stretched between them. Awkwardly, the young girl fingered the hem of her less-sodden shirt.

"Who is she?" She finally questioned, her voice barely above a whisper. He could only smile ironically. Her eyes fell down from the plant to her fumbling fingers, tugging at the thick material in obvious uncertainty. At his apparent silence, she continued thoughtfully. "You love her?"

"Yes." He said it with fierce pride, unaware of the answering blush rising on Usagi's cheeks. It was so deliberate, so territorial and affectionate. It lit the tiny fire burning in her chest to a wild flame, her fingers flexed against the urge to run to him. Her whole body shuddered with the need to be in his arms.

"She is so much more than I could have hoped for. I want…" He shook his head, stuffing both hands in his pockets rather than touch the perfect bud. It was too beautiful to be tainted by him. The one night he had touched it, the sparks had left him breathless.

The shift provided a perfect excuse to turn and face the intruder thoughtfully. She was standing shyly in the hallway, both feet settled cautiously into the carpet. It was strange to see her back in her puffy clothes. His logical mind could have sworn that even damp fabric tended to stick to skin, and yet hers did just the opposite. There was a tense bowing against the curvature of a natural waist, giving off the impression that, though the girl was skinny, she had no shape to her core. The information lodged itself somewhere in the back of his thoughts as peculiar.

"Go ahead, I'm listening." She urged quietly. Her golden hair shimmered in the dim sunlight from the porch, big blue eyes half lidded and intent. Despite the oddities of the situation, something about her felt natural to talk to. Without a second thought, he simply dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his jeans and shrugged.

"I want to be worthy of her."

Usagi blinked, hardly expecting that answer out of all the others he could have said. He wanted to be worthy of her? Wasn't he considered easily the most eligible bachelor of Tokyo, fawned over hourly by hoards of fan girls and professors, hailed for his brains and exceptional good looks? Why on earth would he assume he wasn't worthy of little Usagi? But then, he didn't know it was just her.

"I understand." She smiled, but deep down the ache began again. Months now of training had put her well above her goal of defeating the Youma, and even then she felt there was so much left to do.

"Do you?" There was a bare second of hesitation before her head bobbed once.

He couldn't help but feel… pity… or maybe a deep somber understanding. She had told him she loved him, or rather screamed it in his face. After all this time, he could see behind the sorrow in her eyes that she still felt the same way. It was as easy as reading a book, as easy as seeing through the window directly into her thoughts. She had worked hard all semester long in his class, Motoki had told him. Her papers were very introspective and interesting to read. Mamoru had never bothered to look at them for more than a glance.

He wondered if any of his hoard had that deep, somber look to their eyes when they spoke of him. He wondered if any of them bothered to think the way he did of Moon; that deep-seated desire to become more than what he was in order to earn her favor. Not just to lie, not just to put on the airs of becoming, but to change from the inside out. Had any of them borne that kind of life-altering intent? He couldn't think of even one conversation he'd had with any of them since the beginning of all of this that even came close to that intensity.

"I'm sorry, Odango-chan." You are a child, he had said without so many words. The way he looked at her, the way his eyes saw right through her. As if he didn't even see the woman standing in his living room. He saw her as a small child and nothing more. The realization was like falling forever through an abyss. She had never felt so alone as now. After searching for her for nearly a year, Mamoru could not or would not see her as a woman, as an equal, as a worthy partner. She was still Odango, and always would be in his eyes.

She couldn't fight the blinding tears. They spilled from her eyes as she blinked, wiping at them fruitlessly with her sleeve. Couldn't he see her? She was standing right in his living room, had stared deeply into his eyes for no more than a moment? Wasn't that what love was; when he could see into her soul and guess the truth with what he saw? Why couldn't he accept her?

"I'm so sorry." He repeated, standing before her with the box of tissues. She all but choked at the look in his eyes. She couldn't bear the pity, the deliberate withdrawal. She couldn't bear his utter refusal.

Long after the door had slammed shut, after her footsteps pounded down the hall, he kicked himself. Maybe he shouldn't have been so open about his feelings for another girl in Usagi's presence. After all, he could see for himself that she cared very deeply, and that those words would hurt her. They had needed to be said. Odango was young and naive and very, very impressionable. She had plenty of time to recover and move on in life, and there was no use for her to waste her time waiting around for him to change his mind.

He tried to be reassuring, but those silvery blue eyes haunted him. That quiet, indisputable way she had looked at him from across the room. There was something strange in the way she… he couldn't put a finger on the gesture. It would haunt him long after the encounter, long after he could justify himself in his own mind. It didn't make any sense. She didn't make any logical sense to him. She was like her clothing, clinging and repelling at the same time, fighting against itself. She was the thoughtful beauty fighting for freedom in the silly child.

Part of him wondered when that beauty would break through; the other part wondered who would be waiting there to claim her.


End file.
